Mass Effect: Comatose
by Hadij Drake
Summary: Going into a coma is much scarier than you think...and trust me, when you go down, your brain isn't dead. It's just...somewhere else at the time. Mass Effect Self-Insert, not for the faint of heart. Lots of differences from the game.
1. Prologue: What Not to Do

_CHAPTER NOTES: Hey all! I'd really like it if this didn't blend into the monotony of other self-insertions – not to say that I don't like them, because I do. Mass Vexations was in particular most inspirational for me. But, as much as I love his work and his writing style, Herr Wozzeck wasn't me, and neither was Art._

_So I felt compelled to make my own thing, in my own way…and I hope that others can enjoy it, just the same that I enjoyed Wozzeck. Thanks for giving me the motivation to create; it's really a great thing to give someone. And thanks to anyone who reads this. Please feel free to criticize, even though this prologue shouldn't be taken as anything more than my writing style, because the rest of the story will differ quite a bit. Not to mention, it's probably the most linguistically offensive, but the other parts shouldn't be. As a matter of fact...the first part here has wayyy more cursing than the other chapters. But it helps set the mood very well._

_There are a lot of people I'd like to thank, but none that I want to mention by name, so I'll just say "friends and family" and end it at that._

_For the disclaimer – I own none of Mass Effect's characters, or anything that is associated with the Mass Effect universe. Any characters resemblance to you, the reader, is purely coincidental. I mean, jeez, even my character differs from my actual personality. If you are offended by any language or visual imagery exhibited in the story, I probably won't change anything, since it's not worse than all the other stuff on this site...but feel free to shoot me a message._

_With no further ado, I'd like to present to you Mass Effect: Comatose. Enjoy the ride, because I'm hoping to make this a pretty large series, unique in its own subtle ways._

_Love (because sincerely is weak sauce),_

_Hadij Drake_

_PS: Expect new installments every week, exempting the first Chapter, which will be up in a couple days. All of the new chapters will/should be longer than this prologue._

_PPS: While this is a self-insertion, it's not how I am now. I'm actally very much sober, and have been for a good while, but drawing upon experience like this helps me to write more convincingly._

* * *

Prologue: What Not to Do

_Thump thuthump thump. Thump thump._

Vibrations travel through the metal exoskeleton of the '97 Explorer. The bass drum thuds repetitively to the rhythm of "Heart of a Lion," ambient space-like beats and piano echoing in the cramped confines. The leather seats act like a makeshift conduit for the music, rattling the inside of the truck like a snare drum.

_Thump thuthump thump. Thump thump._

I'm one of seven people packed into the car, sitting shotgun, listening to Kid Cudi's first release; I'm relaxed, carefree. Elbow resting on the window sill, rolled down enough that I can trail a couple fingers out the window. The wind outside races by, whipping my hair about like I'm sitting in front of a jet engine. The slightest hint of red hovers on the horizon where the sun used to be, little ripples of purple and blue in the distance. It's approaching nine o'clock in Colorado Springs and I can't bring myself to stop smiling.

_Thump thuthump thump. Thump thump._

"Hey, everybody, listen up," says the driver, Jared. He looks back at the others, adjusting the volume on the stereo so that he can be reasonably heard. Jared's straight-up African American – legitimate Ethiopian heritage, and damn proud of it. "Hey! I said listen the fuck up! House rules, nigga – rule one. Spilling a drink is a party foul, so control yourselves. Rule two – there are penalties for each recurrent party foul. One is cleanup, and then you sing a song of our choice. Two is naked run around the house. Taking pictures on cell phones is greatly encouraged." This got a few laughs from the back of the truck. "Three is an immediate ejection from my house. Comprende? Rule three, if you're too loud, you're a problem, so you're out. Period. You keep this shit down, and we won't have any issues. Rule four, no feeling up the women here on my property. If you're gonna do something, take it outside, or anywhere else. Just don't pull that crap here. Rule five…"

Jared threw an impish grin my way, and we pull into the driveway. "Rule five, I'm gonna get you kids so fucking twisted you won't remember how to stand up. You _will_ enjoy yourselves. You _will_ remember this night. And if you are physically incapable, the rest of us will remember this shit for you."

* * *

Have you ever had a night that was blurry, even while you were in the midst of it? You remember telling yourself that you're fine, that it's all making sense, but that's just what you say over and over to your friends. You want to convince them that you'll be alright, mostly to convince yourself.

You know you're fucked up.

The screwdrivers were only the beginning of this night, but you went through them too fast. You've got a happy little buzz going, but your friends are encouraging you to push farther – and hey, you're not bad. Or are you? The answer is no, but the four shots of Jaeger should be enough to get you comfortably drunk. Once you're done with those four, though, you'll simply smile and say how it tastes like Christmas and ask for a Mike's Hard. You don't feel sick yet, and you won't remember throwing up in the morning, so it's obvious they lied to you.

That was this night, except without the waking up in the morning bit. This night was every parent's worst nightmare, filled with tough decisions and confusion, a morose explanation from white jackets who don't really care – they have other stupid kids to deal with. Kids who didn't get into this position of their own free will.

But that's me getting ahead of myself.

So here I am, on my third aforementioned screwdriver, talking to one of my friends. I think it was Nick, but the night was all too hazy…let's call him Nick for now. It's not like he'll remember the night, anyways.

"Dude, it's ridiculous we haven't hung out yet since you left for U-dub. How's that shit going anyway?"

"Great," I say back to him, feeling more than a little distracted. I'm not sure why exactly, but drinking and getting wasted night after night _does_ get repetitive after a while. I just feel like I really shouldn't be here. The buzz is gentle at the moment, and I take a longer sip from the orange juice blend, wiping my mouth with the sleeve of my hoodie. "Wyoming isn't like what you'd think, I guess. Don't know how else to put it."

He laughs. "What, because people know how to party there? This is the US of A, bro, everywhere has someplace to fuck shit up. You just gotta look to find some cats that know what they're doing." Nick sits back in the couch, sipping at a screwdriver of his own. "Damn man, Brad made these fat."

"Only way to make em," I say, lapsing into another grin. We bump fists and I relax, allowing my eyelids to drift shut. "Yo, Jared's gonna smoke me up a few bowls of his new shit, you down? I'll cover you."

"Down as fuck, man."

"Drake, get your jive ass over here!" My head swivels at the words and I finish off the drink, tossing the plastic cup in a trashcan a few feet away. I get up and jog over to Brad, who is (as always) busy mixing drinks. He flashes a cheery smile my way.

"Drake, man, hear me out," he says, taking out a couple of double-shot glasses. "Where the hell have you been? I'm going back to Boulder this weekend and I've only seen you a couple times. We gotta keep in touch more."

"Oh, I hear you Brad," I say as he breaks out the Jaegermeister. "What's up man? I told you, I've got to stop doing shots…drives me out of my mind. I can't even control myself."

"Yeah, and you've got to worry about that military career, right?" Brad shrugs, leaning on the counter behind where he's been mixing drinks. "Doesn't look good on a record if you're always getting tied down with the wrong people."

I sigh. "Brad, you aren't the "wrong people," or however you want to put it. It's just…I can't screw this up. One shot."

"And that's all I'm asking for! Well, technically a couple…"

"Come on, man," I say back, but I've already made up my mind. "Why are you so desperate for this? We can drink any time. Don't have to get wasted in the meantime, though."

He's already filling the two glasses, and he snorts my words away like they were never said in the first place. "I'm going back Drake, I gotta make this night count. And well, there's this, um…" Brad's eyes flicker over to a corner of Jared's house and I follow it subtly.

"Veronica? You can't be thinking…"

"Man, this is my last shot. I need some liquor courage."

"Liquid courage, Brad," I correct, rubbing my neck. "And I think you might just have enough of that in your system."

"Not even close," he answers, handing me a glass. I take it carefully, measuring it up. A couple shots wouldn't hurt anyone…I've been fine this whole time, the screwdrivers are barely giving me a buzz.

You can guess where this is going.

* * *

Four shots of Jaeger later and I'm drinking cranberry hard lemonade. Nothing's really blurry – see, that's the misconception about drinking. You lose coordination, sure, but you don't actually lose much eyesight. It's the memories that are blurry. Of course, that might simply meant I've never had enough to drink to get to that point…but that means "enough" is borderline lethal. I'd rather not go there.

* * *

"Drake. Drake, get your head in the fucking game, it's your hit."

I'm back in the truck somehow, and Immortal Technique is spewing angry verses from every direction. I blink a couple times as I widen my eyes, staring Jared in the face.

"Dude, he's so fucked," laughs Nick, doubled over.

"Damn man, we've already been through a couple bowls and he drank his ass off. I'd hope he's fucked, otherwise I'm not getting my money's worth." Jared's eyes were all scrunched up, and he's giggling, still driving.

"Light's green, man!"

"Oh, right. Take the damn piece!"

I do, staring down the wooden shaft like a child with his first Tickle Me Elmo. I'm swaying, and blackness tugs at the corners of my vision. The smell of marijuana rolls up through my nostrils and my eyes flutter a bit. I realize my seatbelt isn't even buckled up, but I ignore it for the moment.

After my hit, I cough a couple times and pass it to some kid I don't even know. I'm searching for the belt but it's like Jared uninstalled it. I can't find it for the life of me, and I start laughing, nudging Nick beside me.

"Hey…hey man," I said. "You've gotta help me find my seatbelt man, it's not here anymore, what did you do with it?"

"I don't know dude, ask Jared!"

This is hilarious for some reason and I start giggling and snorting even more. Soon the whole car is laughing, and everything keeps spinning as the car keeps laughing. I don't know why the situation is so funny…it's like something straight out of a nightmare. The streets are winding and steep, and the sky is some strange form of purplish-blue, and at other times, it strays towards lavender. Everything seems so horribly…wrong. Out of place. I feel like I'm going to vomit on the back of the leather seats, but I can't stop laughing…I'm breathless, eyes squeezed shut.

I open my eyes for the briefest second and take in my surroundings. My friends in the car are shadowy and the edges of their silhouettes are slightly blurred, like they're warping, blending in with their surroundings. The outside world seems to be moving, but the car is standing in place…we're flung forward like rag dolls across the street, hurtling into an intersection and across the street. Everything seems too small…the car is too cramped…even in the shotgun seat, where I'm so alone, and the walls are so far apart…

Suddenly, everything distorts. I see the car coming from the left side, streaking towards Jared, and I see the bumper tear through the door. I feel my body jerked suddenly, and I feel myself rising…rising…up through the windshield…

And then, my vision went dark. It wasn't like a gradual fading…it was as though shutters were drawn over my eyes and wrapped around my face, until I felt like my eyes ceased to exist. Until Drake ceased to exist.

And where one story ends, another begins.

* * *

_June 12th, 2011_

_A lot of boring patients today, but one that at least drew some of my attention is the patient in Room 318C of the wards. Official identification is Drake Benson._

_Drake is lucky to be alive. Out of the five people that were in the car, only he and another patient survived, but the other died of blood loss two hours after the crash, which happened at 1:38 in the morning, according to the survivors of Car 2. All inhabitants of Car 1 have been tested and found with a BAL past the legal limit, and all inhabitants were under the age of 21. Drake himself is 18. Brown hair, brown eyes, approximately 6'3 and 186 lbs. Looks to be in good physical condition._

_Currently, Drake is in a comatose state. We aren't sure of what his status will be later, since all patients tend to vary, but it doesn't look good. Brain activity is nonexistent, and many vital organs are damaged. No internal bleeding, though. Severe trauma to the head, he's due for blood transfusion later today. His family didn't take the news terribly well. Not that anyone should, but the shock was evident._

_Subject is currently on life support…I'd pull for him, but I just don't see how this can end well. There's always hope, though…for his parents, I'd like there to be that much._

* * *

"Doesn't look like there's any trauma…any idea how he got out here?"

"No clue. I'd chalk it down as an UD-6, zip code 80921…how long has he been here?"

"Sorry sir, but I really don't know much more than you do. I found the body a couple minutes ago and phoned you right away. He had a pulse, but you're saying that there's no brain activity? I'm guessing that it might be a stim overdose, but I could be wrong."

My head feels like it has been split in half by a butcher knife. I try to open my eyes just a tad, and light floods through them, making my head throb even more. I manage to make out a couple of figures standing above me, and attempt in vain to squint in their direction.

"No, there's nfo uneven discoloration…if anything, he's only recently went comatose, we just don't know how. And his clothing…how peculiar."

"Poor bastard. It doesn't look like – holy shit!"

I groan a little as one of the shadows bends down over me, curious, as if to reach for my neck. I weakly try to swat at the arm, and the figure recoils in fear, stumbling to the ground.

"Jesus!" It's a whisper from the man on the ground, and I began to make out a few more features. Gray uniform, black hair, probably something near 6'0. Maybe a bit taller. Definitely bulkier than me. I try to open my eyes more fully, but the sun just makes me squint. I roll over onto my face and feel concrete under my cheek…so I managed to survive? But how…

One of the first things I notice is the lack of a hangover. The headache has already subsided. Unusually brief in comparison to my usual, but much more intense. I roll back over so that I'm facing the sky and start to sit up, holding my head in my hands.

"H-hello?" I turn towards the voice, opening an eye. It's the officer, the one who fell over when I started twitching. "What the hell happened to you? Y-you were…the scanner read…"

"Car," I murmur under my breath, my voice coming out like a dry croak. "We were…well, idiots, but outside of that…"

"Goddamn, son, I would not expect to see you alive," says the other man. He's wearing terribly strange clothing, maybe a bit too formal for my liking. And I have absolutely no clue what material it's made of. As a matter of fact…

I begin to stare at my surroundings. Buildings, at least ten stories high, make the horizon difficult to find. I scramble backwards on my elbows and feet, blinking at what I'm seeing all of a sudden. _I'm in an alley. Colorado Springs didn't have alleys…and we definitely didn't travel that far last night_. All the buildings are unusual, even for a city…white, and definitely not made of bricks. The thought crosses my mind that the material looks a little like porcelain, but I dash it aside right away.

"Where…where am I?" I whisper to no one in particular, eyes wide and afraid.

"Colorado Springs, kid. Where did you think you were?" the man in the suit laughs a bit, but the noise is tinny and anxious. "You sure that he didn't do stims, Private? He's sure acting funny."

"No…no, I'm fine." I get up, staring at everything around me. There are cars in models I've never even seen before, and the streets are freshly paved, everything seems so…new. I cough once and say softly, "What's the date?"

"One second," says the soldier-esque man, and he…he…

_Shit. Is that what I think it is?_

A near transparent orange virtual interface wraps itself around his arm, and he interacts with it slowly, a nonchalant expression on his face. "March 12th, Earth Year 2182. Hmm…" he says, glancing at my person. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to take you into custody. We need to get this mess sorted out."

"No problem," I say. _Wait._ I'm in the year 2182? Everything is so strange; I can't believe this is true…am I dead? Is this all some sort of heaven? Well, I doubt I'd be taken into custody in heaven, so I'm inclined to say no. "Everything should be…in order…my name is Drake Benson, by the way."

"Private Patterson, at your service," he replies, a smile on his face at my friendly manner. He extends a hand, and after hesitating for a moment, I take it. "Nice to meet you. I'm sure that this'll all be sorted out without issue, but I'll need to take you to the police headquarters, at any rate. I'm not technically a police officer, so I'm obliged to report to them for matters outside my jurisdiction."

"Fair enough," I say. A thought pops into my mind. _I've been wanting to enlist in the Marines for a while anyway…I might be able to get into a military branch here. For however long anyways…I'm hungry, it's obvious that I can still utilize my senses here. So I need some way to provide, at least until I get home._

"Looks like you've got this covered," says the other man, nodding at the officer. "I'll see you later then, soldier."

"N-7 Private Patterson to Colorado Springs Police Department," says Patterson, his index finger to his ear. I barely keep my composure, staring at him strangely. "I've got someone here named Drake Benson, appears to be legal age…" He turns to me. "Can I see an ID?"

I freeze. "Umm…umm…yes." I fidget in my wallet and take out my military ID, which has an expiration date of 2014. _This could be interesting._ He sees it and immediately realizes that something is wrong. For a moment, his eyes just rotate to my person, then back to the ID. Then back to the wallet. A bead of sweat appears at my forehead as I wait for him to make a decision…

"Ehehe, apologies officer," says the Private. "It looks like everything has sorted itself out here. Have a good afternoon." He quickly shoves the ID back into my hands and grabs my shoulder, maybe a bit tighter than I would have liked, even though I'm taller by a couple inches. "May I have a word with you, Drake?"

I simply nod and let him take me aside. He pulls out the wallet and looks me dead in the face, his eyes scanning, as though he's looking for something.

"These are artifacts. And yet, they look legitimate enough that I'm actually hesitating before I bring you in for lack of proper identification. Help me out here…what the hell is happening?"

_I'm not the best person to ask, bro._ "I have no clue." And I can't think of anything else to say. I probably shouldn't have shown him my ID…but then, what could I have done?

There's a terribly awkward silence where I'm not sure what the N-7 Private will do. But eventually, he pats my shoulder and takes a step back. "What are you going to do?"

He must be brighter than I thought at first glance. The question catches me off guard and I search my head for an answer, ignoring the feeling of numbness and disorientation. "I…I was actually hoping to enlist with the Marines, or maybe…maybe another branch of the military. I'm kind of new to this. If you know what I mean." The military? Sure, that's what I'd wanted back home, but here...here I should be looking for a way to get back. Yet, for some reason, I'm intrigued. I want to find out more. And some part of me can't shake the feeling that this is just an eerily realistic dream.

"I can make that happen," says Patterson. "I barely have any influence, but my father is a Major. I don't see any reason to mistrust you...but we should get this taken care of. And fast."

_Then you're a bit foolish, but I'm grateful for it._ "I…well, thanks." I run a hand through my hair, the gravity of the situation just starting to sink in. The initial disorientation is wearing off. I've been trying to go about this like I was back home, but I've only gotten lucky so far. If the officer wasn't sympathetic, I'd likely be rotting in prison, but instead, I just managed to get a job. It's weird how the world works sometimes.

"You can stay at my place tonight. I don't know why you're here, but…just…let's not talk about this." Patterson sighs. Then, I realize why he's been acting so strangely. _He's not trying to be hospitable. He's afraid._

He leads me to his car and I follow in a blind, sad way. My mood had swung like I was bipolar, and whatever giddiness I'd felt before fades away when he speaks again. But I'm not even listening. I feel like crying right now, I really do. Not only am I alone, but anyone will be afraid of me if they find my secret. It'll probably be best if I hide it for the moment. This place...it's like a dream come true…except, in a way, it's a nightmare. I really hope that I can just wake up. As babyish and pathetic as it might seem, I miss my family already. I just...I just want to wake up.

I don't.

Mass Effect is now my reality.


	2. Chapter 1: Paradise Lost

_CHAPTER NOTES: Thanks for the reviews and subscriptions, all! I originally wanted to put this out Sunday morning, but I couldn't stand waiting much longer – hey, it's technically Sunday morning, right? Either way, enjoy…I'm trying to develop some pretty strong characterizations in this chapter, and there's a heavy dose of action too. Not to mention, it's something like…13,000 words long? Feels good, man. And I'm hoping for most chapters to be around 10k long anyways, with some *coughiloscough* spanning two chapters or so because of the length._

_I tried to keep in mind some of the suggestions I got via PM while finishing this up, too. Expect Chapter 2 to be out next Sunday, and for this to be updated on Sundays from here on out as well._

_Love ya guys – R&R if you have the time, and if not, enjoy either way!_

_Hadij Drake_

_PS: I'm hinting at a couple romances here. The end results should be rather interesting…but I'll just leave it at that._

_

* * *

_

Chapter 1 – Paradise Lost

I scramble to some cover behind an outcropping, feeling bullets ping off of my shields and into the ground. When I finally reach the rock I slide, feeling my armor tear into the grass and dirt, making a divot for my knee. It makes for a nice pivot point, and I peek around the edge of the rock with the barrel of my rifle. Williams' orders are barked and almost angry sounding, but I can hear the fear in her voice too.

"All units, fall back to the dig site!" Shots pepper the ground near her feet and the slab of stone she's behind. "Our position is compromised, fall the fuck back!"

I make an effort to line up something, anything with my scope, but withdraw it as shots bombard my position. The strange synthetic creatures are everywhere and they're advancing rapidly, with minimal resistance from what little military force we had left. _This is it, then,_ I think. _The geth invasion of Eden Prime. I could even go as far as to say this is like Lucifer whispering in Eve's ear in her dreams, a sign of things to come…not half as subtle, though. Not a tenth, come to mention it._

I steal a glance again and line up my shots, squeezing the trigger twice in rapid succession. The first shard tears through one of the larger geth's shields, striking it in the arm, and the second drills it straight in the chest. My silenced rifle starts to feel warmer as it nearly overheats – thank God for my custom silencer. I don't take any more time to survey my handiwork after the light in its head dies out, sprinting from my cover towards a hill while putting my weapon on my back once more. No shots come in my direction for several seconds, but soon I feel my shields draining as bullets fly towards my position. A couple almost cause me to trip – a bullet hitting your personal shield feels something like a light shove, and when you're running up a hill, the two don't mix well.

_Shit, shit, come on, the cover's only fifty feet out…_

I can't hear the Gunnery Chief now; my ears are ringing from all the shots. The top of the hill isn't far away, and then I can duck down, take up a better position…if I'm going to die here, in that famous battle from the beloved games of my youth, I'm sure as hell going to take a few of these robotic bastards with me.

* * *

Okay, I should probably explain at least a little bit of how I got in this position. It's the perfect place to be in the Mass Effect universe (at least, based on the assumption that you'll survive). A bit too coincidental, hmm?

It's actually not that odd.

Let's start with where we left off last time. The year is 2182. After staying the night at the Private's apartment, he told me that he'd set me up with a position in the 25th Division, which was actually serving on Earth at the moment – the UNAS (United North American States) California unit, actually. I'd get my Basic Training out of the way, and I'd be able to learn the way the military works now easier than I would on a completely alien world. Also, it was fast and easy to do this instead of getting my visa and extra paperwork squared away, and this kid wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible.

A few days later, I had a new ID and all my paperwork was in order. The time it took was almost surprising at first. Since the Alliance was so eager to expand throughout the galaxy, I guess it didn't hurt to get cheap grunts. I had a low base pay, but it was plenty to pay for food, water, electricity, and a single apartment. The military provided me with an omnitool, which is a much more advanced gadget than the game lets on. Oh, it's easy to use – touch 'screen' interface with a virtual screen and such – but there are a shitload of functions. If I wasn't so computer savvy (even as a child) I'd be seriously limited in its use.

Right, back to how I got where I am now. I was enlisted as a Private 2nd Class, which is the barebones of the Marine Core nowadays. I was apparently in excellent physical condition, and my weight and height (186 lbs and 6'3) were both at a healthy level. They even let me keep my dreads long if I wore a beret to keep them out of the way. I still got them shaved eventually, but I kept the beret - what can I say, it's a classy look! I got some more bulk during Basic and actually look like a soldier now, instead of a fit, semi-muscular lanky black kid. Finally, after a simple IQ test and a review of my capabilities, I was quickly promoted to Private 1st Class.

In weapons training, I was found to be decent with a pistol, though the recoil took some getting used to. I was useless with both shotguns and assault rifles, being more of a danger to myself than anyone else. But because of my ability to judge speeds and my better than perfect vision, I excelled with a sniper rifle. A lot of that probably has to do with hunting when I was younger, but then again, who really knows.

The weapons used nowadays have an interesting mechanism that allows for much better conservation of ammunition, I've found. The ammunition is a simple block in a chamber, and when you squeeze the trigger, a lever is activated. A small shard of the metal in the chamber is seared off in some sort of tiny fraction of a millisecond, and that shard is then propelled through the barrel through a chemical reaction. I can't remember the chemicals off the top of my head, but the fancy part about this is that the weapons can be fired in space due to no heat being used (although some is generated as a side effect), and also no oxygen being needed. Speaking of heat, if you fire too many rounds in too quick of a succession, the weapon automatically freezes up as a safeguard so that the shards don't burn right through the metal and cause something…nasty. In outer space, this still takes place, since the initial chamber where heat is created is actually sealed off so that oxygen can be automatically let in every shot by a pumping mechanism. It's a bit complicated for me to handle, but I feel that I have the basic grip on it. Oh, my bad – that's way off topic.

Anyways, after about a year of service, I was told that I was being reassigned to a different unit, the 212. I didn't remember which unit this was until I was told my assignment was on Eden Prime. The Lieutenant I would be serving under at time went by the moniker Lieutenant "Louis," probably because of the ring to it…I heard rumors after I arrived that his name was actually Pete.

Wait, I was talking about something else…yep. How I got assigned to Eden Prime, that's it.

Why did I get assigned to this place so conveniently, you might ask? Well, apparently, a large number of the battalion had recently retired. Eden Prime was said to be one of the easiest assignments in the Marines…and they were in for a surprise, let me tell you. The unit was filled with a lot of lethargic people who were actually looking to retire as colonists on the beautiful planet. Sure, there were a few great soldiers. I actually became bunkmates with one, a Corporal Johnson at the time. After another Corporal stepped down, I was suddenly elevated to that position as well – turns out my name was high on the promotion recommendation list.

Sadly, I had no idea when the attack was actually supposed to take place, in terms of the date. Just that it would happen in 2183. So I couldn't really ask the guard to be stepped up, right?

I had been there for maybe a month when I was assigned a new commanding officer, Lieutenant Herman. Unbearably short haircut, fairly muscular dude. Total jackass. It was under his command that I finally met Ashley Williams…oh, you better know who that is. Gunnery Chief Williams, and she's just as bitchy in person as she is kickass. She helped me out with the custom attachments to my scope that I'd been working on, like a silencer, and an improved round filter. It was one of the coolest things I'd ever been involved in, up to that point at least.

We were patrolling the perimeter, guard duty, nothing special, when we heard some gunfire from behind us near the spaceport. I was sent to investigate, and by the time I got there I couldn't even help. Almost half of our unit had been wiped out because of the surprise attack. When I got back to Williams they were barely holding off the geth, while a distress call was broadcast to anyone in the area. Maybe thirty minutes of fighting later, and we've thinned the geth numbers considerably…but not as much as they've thinned ours. We have four left in the area, and probably very few (if any) outside of where we are.

I know I'm lucky to be alive, but I don't know if it'll last till Shepard gets here. For that matter, I just hope I'm not one of the troops who get mounted on a spike.

Now. Back to the action!

* * *

I leap as I reach the top of the hill, rolling for cover, just as my shields completely expire. A stray bullet reaches its mark and tears through my ankle just before I hit the grass. I grit my teeth and try to ignore the pain for now, scrambling on my elbows and knees towards a boulder, staying out of the geth's view. These things…they really are everywhere. In the game, it seemed like it wasn't nearly as many, but in the games, Ashley was also the only one who survived. So far, we still have the two of us and a couple other troops…but I know we won't be able to last much longer.

Hands shaking with adrenaline and the rush of battle, I peek out on my stomach from a gap between two boulders, the tripod set underneath the frame of my rifle. None of the geth are looking in my direction any more, preferring to focus on the rest of the Alliance troops nearby, but I can see that "the rest" are in some serious shit. At least fifteen of the geth are advancing, and Johnson looks like he was already shot somewhere…maybe the ribs? I can't tell for sure. A ridiculous thought takes my mind for an instant, that maybe I should just flee…leave the others for the geth to overwhelm. They're just video game characters. I'm an actual person.

But I won't be able to do that. Not really. These aren't just characters…I've eaten with them at the mess hall, I've learned about their personal lives, I've made friends with them and shared stories. Granted, my stories were fake, but it would be sick and wrong to just leave them to die. If I can't die for them, with them, then I don't deserve to be in the Alliance in the first place.

One of the creatures brings a rocket launcher to bear and I squeeze the trigger. Even from here I can hear the sizzle of metal tearing through machinery, though the shot itself was silenced, and it drops to the ground with a freshly made hole in its robotic head. I quickly adjust and squeeze the trigger again, aiming for another trooper, but I miss by centimeters and only manage to tear its attention from the other three Marines.

"Dammit," I whisper, wiping my sweaty hand on the grass. I'd forgotten about the wind. Even from barely a hundred feet away, it was a novice mistake to forget about all the variables. This time, I adjust a few millimeters ahead of the trooper on my scope, pulling the trigger softly so that I can focus on managing the recoil. This time the synthetic falls to his knees like a sack of meat.

It's about that time that the geth realize just what's been going on. They stop, confused, and that's all that Chief needs to turn the situation around. I see Ashley peek out from cover and fire several rounds from her assault rifle, spraying the geth front with careful bursts. Even Johnson, bless his heart, manages to peek out and fire a few pistol round in the geth's general direction. _Thank God, their numbers are finally dwindling_. I take aim at a different colored trooper with a shotgun near the front of the group and twitch my trigger finger, the shot striking with such pressure that his neck is partially severed from his shoulders. Out of the corner of my eye I see the only remaining Lieutenant running for cover. Yep, Lieutenant Herman is leaving Ashley and the wounded Johnson behind.

"Superior officer my ass," I mutter, trying to line up another shot while my rifle cools off. "This is only a segment of the geth military…we need to clean up before more reinforcements arrive."

The remaining ten or so troops keep advancing on Williams' position, but several of them break off, some towards a rock formation on the opposite end of the narrow battlefield, and another couple…well, headed right in my direction. I'm guessing they noticed my barrel sticking out among the rocks, because suddenly the ones coming towards me make some whirring noises and pick up speed. I take another couple of hurried shots when I realize this, one hitting an advancing geth in the leg. It's not a great shot, but it causes him (or her?) to collapse to the ground.

A string of colorful curse words do loops in my mind as I take out my pistol and try to get to my feet. I gasp noiselessly as I put pressure on the ankle that had been shot before and fall back down, wobbly, wincing as I stumble behind a rock for whatever cover it can provide me. Bullets gash the dirt where I had been lying seconds earlier.

_Completely forgot about my ankle being shot, how does that happen?_ I remember something about how going into shock numbs pain, but right now, it feels like anything _but _numb. The soft rustle of futuristic joints on the grassy floor grows louder and louder, even though the gunfire and explosions are taking place right next door. Or maybe the noises are getting farther away…maybe Ash made it out. _Just like she was supposed to…_

But right now, I need to focus on my own problems.

_Think fast, sonny._

I unclip a grenade as quietly as I can from my belt and drop it at my feet, then start to inch away from it. _The geth can't be more than ten feet away now, and my shields are low…emptying a clip into my back isn't out of the question here_. Another part of my mind condones this, screaming _think positive, dammit!_ My body's somewhere in between, trapped between terror and nervous uncertainty.

I take a deep breath and make a mad dash; or rather, I attempt to. After about ten feet my ankle gives out from underneath me and I slip, rolling the rest of the way down the hill as bullets soar over my head, making my ears ring again. Glancing back up, I see the flashlight head rise into my vision, maybe a foot away from the rock, and _click_.

The poor geth is thrown several feet into the air – or at least, what's left of him is. His upper torso, the wiring inside charred from the sheer incendiary force of the blast, finally strikes the ground about five feet away, embedding itself deep in the mud. Its inner light flickers out and it whirs, motorized joints powering down for the last time.

I just lie there for a while, barely daring to breathe. I want to help Ashley and the rest of the 212, but I can't seem to make myself move. After what I'm guessing was at least several minutes, I force my shaking hands to reach towards my injured ankle. The battle has moved on. It's much quieter here than it used to be.

I take off my armored boots gingerly, trying to avoid rubbing against the scrape. There's a hole where the bullet penetrated the armor. Luckily, the scrape itself appears to be little more than a deep graze. I dab a bit of Medigel on it and sigh at the nearly instant relief.

"Wait…Ash," I say out loud, leaping to my feet with renewed vigor. I run up the hill quietly, being sure to remain out of sight in case there are any lingering geth troops. Ash is gone, but Johnson isn't…he's lying with his back against the rock, his eyes closed in a disconcertingly serene way. I run and skid down the hill until I'm at his side, and I grab his hand. So cold…I feel for a pulse on his throat, and close my eyes when the pulse doesn't resonate against my fingertips.

_For a game, this is damn realistic,_ I thought. My eyes are all hot and wet, but I won't cry, dammit. This isn't the time or place. I take a couple of grenades and the rest of the Medigel off his person and cross his forehead.

_God, I don't really know if you exist, or if there's a heaven…I want to believe in it, and I know that a good portion of these soldiers believed in it…just make them comfortable. If anyone deserves paradise, these guys do._

Lost in my thoughts, I barely notice the low hum that's been gradually rising in volume. _Shit…drones._ I duck down behind the rock and freeze, allowing them to pass. When they've put a decent amount of distance between where I was hiding, I get up and start following the path they'd taken, frequently ducking behind cover.

After about a minute I come to a clearing. In the distance, I think I can see Ashley's pink and white armor as she's being pursued by some drones. Which means that nearby should be…

"Oh God," I breathe, staring as an injured soldier is held down over some type of device. It's Lieutenant Herman. One of the geth holding him down presses a few buttons and the device is activated, gradually buzzing to life. I take aim through my scope, centering on a head.

_I only have one shot here…no one deserves to die like this._

A tingle of déjà vu runs through me head as I remember the scene in the game, but I ignore it as I pull the trigger. The bullet embeds itself deep inside the Lieutenant's skull and he stops struggling, a split second before the spike impales him like some sort of demented spear. I wince and try not to look away as gore drips down the pole, lining up another shot at one of the surprised geth. They're both swiveling their heads, searching for whoever had deprived them of their perverse prize.

And then it all goes to hell.

One of the geth is flung straight upwards and hovers there, its weapon clattering to the ground in its confusion. The other android brings its weapon to bear with swiftness I think unnatural for robots, but several rounds are pumped into its chest before it can fire a single shot, and it collapses as its artificial life is extinguished A man walks over to it and steps on its chest, firing three assault rifle rounds into its head just to be sure. As the floating geth is suddenly released, he brings his armored elbow forward at the perfect time, just before its knees hit the ground. A sickening crack echoes throughout the expanse as the geth's logic circuits short out, its head dented by the blow, and it slumps to the ground, falling flat on its flashlight face.

_Wow. That was – _

"Badass," came what I instantly recognize as Commander Shepard's voice. "Did you see that, Alenko? I mean, I know we're on a mission, but you've got to at least give me _some _credit for that one."

"Of course," responds Kaidan wryly, and I feel almost giddy with hearing it. This dialogue wasn't in the game! Of course, Kaiden also sounds sarcastic as hell. "I'm sure there will be songs of your bravery in dealing with…these two geth."

"Ballads, even?"

"Definitely."

"Are you kidding?" Ashley steps out from her cover, breathing heavily as she stalks towards the Commander. I start walking towards them too, trying to keep quiet as I do so. "One of my officers just got killed by that fucking spike, and you guys are making jokes about how 'cool' you are? I don't know what kind of crap you got taught in Basic, but –"

"Whoa," says Shepard, giving her the up-down. "I'm almost positive we just saved your life, Miss…?"

"Williams," says Ash. "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams. And I'm plenty appreciative of that, but you can't just go around making jokes in this situation."

Shepard does look more serious after this. "Fair enough," he says. "Nothing's ever gotten done by boding on things, though…just from personal experience. Let's start over. Commander Jericho Shepard, and this is Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko. Alliance Marines. Can I get a status report, Williams?"

"Oh, man," she says under her breath, and I can see how painful it must be for her to relive this. Hell, I went through it with her, and it's painful for _me_ to think about it. _This isn't a video game_. _This is reality. No autosaves, no reloads.. One chance._

"We were patrolling the perimeter when the attack hit," she says, and she starts pacing. I keep walking forwards, trying to stay quiet. Only about fifty feet out now, they'll see me any minute. "We tried to get off a distress call, but they cut all communications. Nothing in, nothing out. I've been fighting for my life with what was left of my unit ever since."

Shepard's still facing her, and I freeze for a minute. Wow. My video game hero, in the flesh…and I'm going to get to talk to him. This just gets crazier by the minute. "Any idea what kind of enemy we're facing? Synthetics, I take it…"

"I think they're geth," she says simply, hesitation in her voice, unlike what was in the game. There are a lot of subtle changes so far. I can only hope my presence doesn't change much more. "They wiped out my entire unit. I'm the only one left."

"Geth haven't been seen outside the Veil in almost 200 years. Why are they here now?" I can't help thinking of him as Carth Onasi, but I'm positive that by the end of this, it'll be vice versa.

"They must have come for the – Drake?" Ashley's spotted me, and I give a halfhearted smile back, jogging over. "Damn, Corporal, you've got to give me some warning before sneaking up. Thank God at least one of us is still here…I thought you died when I heard the explosion over the hill."

"Pretty sure the geth did too," I say, glancing at Kaiden and Shepard for a brief instant. "Just thought you should know…the Lieutenant didn't suffer. Put him out of his misery before those assholes could."

"Probably didn't deserve the mercy, but it was a good thing all the same," she mutters. "Oh, right. Commander, this is Corporal Drake Benson. He's been in my unit for only two months…it gives me some hope, though. There might be a couple of other troopers that survived this nightmare. Now where was I? Right. The beacon." Ashley takes a deep breath. The way she described me hurt somewhat…as though she'd rather someone else be alive instead. I keep quiet though, knowing that this isn't the time for indignation. "They must have come for it…there's not much of value here. It's just over that rise…it might still be there, if we hurry." She gestures in the direction opposite of which I just came. _That's the dig site? Funny, that it was so close all this time, and I never even thought to explore for it…_

"Well, I wouldn't be a great host if I didn't let a couple soldiers join up," says Shepard. His voice darkens. "We lost a good man already. So we're running short as is. Don't suppose you'd like to come along?" Shepard meets my eyes, and I don't blink. That…is unbelievably difficult.

Ashley salutes. "Sir, yes sir. It's time for payback."

"Johnson's dead," I say simply. "You know I'm down." Of course, I had ulterior motives. But saying that is about as tactful as painting concentric circles on my ass, so I'll stay quiet for now. Shepard grins, unable to contain his enthusiasm for the battle.

"Move out."

* * *

As we neared the dig site, Ashley speaks up. "There it is. Just a couple hundred yards and – "

Bullets start flying from the area of the dig site; a couple of them deflected off of Ashley's shield. She drops to the ground immediately and rolls behind a rock, shouting "take cover!" as she does so. Shepard and Kaiden both take cover too, and I duck behind an overgrowth.

My barrel peeks out between the leaves, and I immediately stare down the scope. This position is less than…well, ideal, but it'll have to do. _If this weapon wasn't so light, this would be problematic._ I scan slowly for any glinting, any unnatural shining of armor in the nonexistent Eden sunlight…ah, there's one. I exhale as the bullet leaves the barrel, and it hits the geth in the chest with such force that he trips backward over his own feet. _Guess we aren't so different after all. They're clumsy fuckers too._

Several more geth come into view, drawn out of cover by the death of their comrade. I swear and zoom in further, but then I see Shepard out of the corner of my scope. He sprays the area, lowering their shields, and Kaidan behind him sends a ball of pure biotic energy towards the center of the troops. Ashley pops up again, spraying the area, and at least eight of the geth drop like flies.

_Wow. Now that's teamwork._

I still manage to snipe another geth, this one twice at both knees, but that was more for my pleasure than anything. His wiring relays are cut now, and he collapses, both legs snapping outwards as he hit the ground. I keep moving up with the others, who seem to stay silent the whole time.

_I'm so out of my league,_ I think as I take up aim again, this time behind the cover of yet another rock. A black silhouette catches my eye only about a hundred feet away, and closer to seventy five feet from the others._ Hmm, a geth sniper._ _Hola, amigo_. It takes aim at them, but thankfully…I'm faster. I drill a round through the side of its head just as he fires, and its shot misses Kaiden by about a foot. He freezes and throws a glance in my direction. Was he…thankful? Is Kaiden thankful for me? Feels good, man. The sniper slumps over its cover, a strange white liquid leaking from the hole in its head.

Well, here it is. The dig site. I barely remember some parts of the game, but I'm pretty sure that the beacon was moved…it's been over a year, after all. The thought of how long I've been away sends a pang of guilt through my mind as I envision my parents…if I hadn't gotten so wasted, I'd be with them right now. It's probably already winter break back home. It's been over 500 days.

And I don't know if I can ever get back.

"…or the geth?" comes Kaidan's voice. I snap back to reality with a jolt, shaking my head fervently.

"Well…" starts Ashley. I make the briefest eye contact with her and quickly look away, staring at the ground ahead. "…it's hard to say. We should probably check out the research camp before we draw any conclusions." I hear a hint of hope in her voice that wasn't in the games, like she's wishing that there are more survivors somehow.

I feel as though I've almost been giving her false hope. I'm the only soldier that'll survive this…that much I know. And even I was a long shot. To be honest, when I enlisted, I didn't really care if I died…if I did, then I would hopefully die for real. Or maybe wake up at home…safe…alive…in bed…

_These are stupid thoughts. Focus, Drake. Focus._

"We're wasting time dawdling here," says Shepard, stretching his neck out and reaching to his comlink silently. He nods twice and then says out loud, "Good deal. We'll meet you there, then."

_Crap. Nihlus. Saren's going to kill him in just a minute and…and I can't save him without…oh come on, there's got to be some way._

"I can scout ahead if need be," I say, maybe a bit too quickly. Three pairs of eyes swivel and meet mine. "I mean, I probably have the best eyes…and if there's an ambush, we need to be prepared for it." I start towards the hill slowly.

"I'd rather if you didn't, Corporal Benson." Shepard eyes me warily. "We need to stick together. Getting separated is the first step in getting someone killed."

_If only you knew the truth, here._ "Feel free to just call me Drake. Or Benson. And I really think that – "

Shepard takes a step towards me, and the next word doesn't leave my mouth. I lock eyes with him again, and strain to not break contact. "No, Corporal. You don't think. You listen to whatever the fuck I tell you to do, and you do it." He looks at Ash, who seems about to come to my defense. "And that goes for all of you. Or I'll leave you on this godforsaken rock when the _Normandy_ takes off. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," comes Ash's bitter response. She glances towards me, a silent command, and I oblige unwillingly. So…this is definitely a Renegade Shepard. For the most part, at the very least.

"Understood, Commander."

"Then let's move," he says. "I want to make this rendezvous. And a scuffle between people _on the same side_ isn't going to stop me. To the space port. On the double!"

"But Commander, the research site might – "

"Chief Williams, was I unclear? Survivors are a second priority." Shepard takes out his assault rifle and starts jogging. "Now let's _move._"

Kaidan's remained silent through this episode, and he doesn't speak up now. The four of us dart up the hill in silence.

* * *

When we reach the research site, everything seems a little too quiet. Smoke billows from piles of bodies, made to work like firewood, and buildings set aflame. Soldiers are impaled on dozens of poles in all directions. It's far grimmer than the scene in the video game, to be sure…little bits of flesh and dried blood are stuck to the metal spikes, and some are freshly bleeding. Others look to be little more than hollowed out skeletons, with thin glowing blue lines running down the length of their bodies, like something from Tron, or – _dammit, forgot all about these guys._

"Something…is horribly wrong," I say softly, hoping that the others catch on.

"The geth were here, of course something is wrong," mutters Ashley under her breath. She looks like she's ready to rip something apart. I shake my head.

"No, I mean…with the soldiers impaled all around us," I repeat. "Something's off here…not with all of them, but something about them is making me anxious."

Metal screeches on metal as one of the poles lowers, and the thing on it begins to twitch. "Oh, God. They're still alive!" _Yeah, Kaidan, I guess you could say that._

"What did the geth do to them?" whispers Ashley, an inflection of fear in her voice. She's frozen in place, but I'm already taking aim down my scope. It's only about twenty feet away; a potshot through the head puts the once-soldier out of commission.

It's like something out of a zombie movie. Poles start sliding down in rapid succession with husks detaching themselves, electricity crackling around their bodies…but it's not three or something like it was in the game, it's at least a ten of them, if not fifteen. And they don't moan and groan as they surge towards us slowly, they run at us like we're meat, a look on their faces that hints at "hey, you! Yeah you! I'm going to rip you apart and devour your intestines!"

Well, I took some artistic liberty there, but you get the point.

"Alenko, let's get a singularity at the heart of these things! Chief, I could use some suppressing fire on the front lines! Corporal, try to injure or incapacitate as many as you can at the back, we'll handle the first wave!"

It's Shepard, barking orders even as he fires at the husks. I obey his order without question. Some things, others just know better. One of the husks farthest back is just standing up, and I pump a shot through its shoulder from this distance, then swivel to another one and miss by a large margin. _Slow down,_ I try to tell myself, letting the rifle cool as I line up another shot. My next round strikes it hard in the chest, making it stumble, but neither of the things is incapacitated. Well, at least they're moving slower. The recoil is starting to annoy me now, so I run over to a mess of rubble that stands about four feet high, balancing my elbow and crouching slightly as I take aim. My shot strikes another husk on the right side of his head, spinning him around and to the ground.

I peek out from behind the scope and see the genius of Shepard's plan. With the singularity in front of himself and Ash, they can pick off the mindless drones as they sprint headlong into the biotic mass. Several dismembered husks already lie behind them or at their feet, and the crowd is thinning by the second. But the singularity also appears to be shrinking…_back to work._ I bring my eye to the scope again and squeeze off two shots, both striking a husk in the stomach, shredding its innards. It collapses to the ground face first and twitches, but ultimately stops moving.

The only ones in the back now are the two I slowed down earlier, and now, limping along with desperation that could only be brought on by lack of life, they're easy prey. _They used to be soldiers,_ I think for the briefest moment. _But they wouldn't want this,_ I respond to myself. _No one would._ I put the two electric monsters out of their miserable existence. The shots were so easy I could've made them back when I was 14, just getting into hunting with my father.

I shove the thoughts of my father out of my head and look at the others. Kaidan looks exhausted in particular…I'm willing to bet that holding a singularity for that long drained him. He shares a glance with Shepard, who nods, and then Shepard glances towards me.

"Good job, Corporal," he says, nodding, and my heart almost skips a beat. "We would have had to pull back if you hadn't taken care of the rear." With that, he steps on the crinkled mess of skin and machinery. There have to be at least…what, ten of them there? Damn.

"What were those things?" I ask, even though I know.

"Tough to say," Shepard replies. "They seem like reanimated soldier corpses…with robotic innards. Ack. I don't care much what device the geth are using; it's sick and wrong."

"It probably takes a few hours for the spikes to turn people into those husks," says Ashley, glancing back at the mess of corpses we left behind.

We all follow as he heads towards the path that leads to the space port, but suddenly, there's a shriek from one of the housing complexes. We train our weapons on the noise, and it's suddenly stifled. After a moment of silence, Shepard steps forward, trying to access the control panel. He swears.

I'm about to step forward with my omnitool when he says, "Alenko? Wouldn't mind a hand here."

"Absolutely."

The door buzzes to life as Kaidan hacks it, and suddenly the shriek comes again. Shepard steps in, training his rifle on the inhabitants, and the three of us pile in as well – oh boy. This can't end well.

"The prophet…" whispers a balding man, staring down at the floor and shaking horribly. "…and he who is the false prophet that shall reinstate the dark one in his power…and humankind will meet its extinction, and the dawn of the old race shall recommence…"

"Manuel, quiet," says another woman. She has short, brown hair, and a slightly worried expression. "Please, lower your weapons. My name is Warren. I - we're just…just doctors. We're scientists. We mean you no harm."

"What you mean is something entirely different from what I might interpret," replies Shepard, staring at her assistant. Manuel. He doesn't even seem funny right now…he just seems damn creepy. Everything he said, it's all going to come true. And no amount of falcon punching can stop that.

"There is no hope for us. There is no hope for anyone. We are not saved…no one can be saved from this Armageddon."

"Forgive my rudeness," says Shepard. "But can you shut him up? He's just going to attract more attention than we need right now."

"He's harmless, really," pleads Dr. Warren. "I just gave him his medication. He's sick, you see…well, a genius actually, but the line between genius and madness is blurry. They're two sides of the same coin."

Manuel suddenly jerks his head upwards, and his eyes lock with mine. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying anything, and he steps once towards me, never blinking. "And so, there shall be one who comes to destroy all hope…whatever hope the lost ones have left behind…and though it isn't written in stone, it will be written in blood. The silence that it hears inside its head is wishful thinking, and the pivot will be embedded in their skin, so that the slightest wind should cast the galaxy into shadows…there is no silence, there is only oblivion, there is no – "

There's a crack as Shepard's fist connects with the side of Manuel's head, not too hard considering he had armor on, but plenty hard enough to knock him into unconsciousness. He slams against the wall of the residence and slumps, his limbs floppy like that of a rag doll's.

"He was wrong, then. Seems plenty quiet now."

Kaidan sighs, looking away as though he didn't want to be associated with this whole mess. "That might have been a bit extreme, sir."

"W-what?" Dr. Warren runs her fingers through her hair, eyes wide in horror. "What have you d-done? Y-you can't just go around – you can't just – "

"He'll just have a bump on his head," interrupts Shepard, bending down to check for a pulse. "See, plenty healthy. I just did you a favor. If he kept up with his racket, you'd have every geth within a mile radius right on top of you inside of twenty minutes."

"I suppose you're right." She sighs. "The medication should kick in by the time he wakes up, at least."

"We should go," says Kaidan, nudging the Commander. I can't take my eyes off of Manuel's body. What he had just said to me…_what did he just say, though? He wasn't clear, but he made me sound like the anti-Shepard…like I'd screw this all up somehow. He was talking about me, right? On second thought, I sure as hell hope not…_

"Corporal?" Ashley's the only one left inside. "Are you alright? You look like you're about to be sick."

I blink and shake my head, suppressing a shiver. "I'll be fine, Chief."

"We still have a mission, Drake," she says in a softer voice. "I need to know that you can follow through with this."

"You mean you need to know if he's going to compromise the mission." Shepard raps on the thin metal walls outside. "If you're coming, you're coming. If not, just wait in with the unconscious nut job and his babysitter, there'll probably be a ship to pick you up later."

"I'm seriously fine," I say, this time with resolve. Ashley nods and steps out.

I follow.

* * *

We've been jogging towards the station for a couple minutes when a shot rings out, strangely loud among this unprecedented quiet. We pick up the pace, and I wince, knowing that it's too late for Nihlus now…so much for stopping things before they got out of hand.

The distance from the research camp to the port is much, much larger than it is in the game. It's been several more minutes by the time we get there, and I'm breathing a bit heavily, but I quickly stare down the scope to see if I can get Saren in view. No luck whatsoever, of course. I do see a geth though…strolling around the port lazily.

"Hold up," I say softly.

Shepard holds up a hand and stops moving suddenly, looking back to me. "Trouble?"

"In a word," is my response, and I keep scanning with the scope, adjusting the zoom slightly. We're still about a quarter mile out, but it's easy to spot them with a scope without the synthetics being able to do the same. I continue scanning, at one point hovering over…Nihlus. His head isn't easy to see from this distance, but its enough to make my stomach do a few corkscrews. The blue blood pooling at about neck level is enough to let me know that it's over.

"We've got about eight geth at the port, tops," I report. "A dozen or so impaled soldiers too, maybe half look to be in the husk stage. And…" This part's going to be difficult. "…and a dead Turian, from the looks of things. Can't say how long he's been dead, just that…he is. Weird that he'd be here on a human colony," I add, hoping to divert attention from the way I'd mentioned the Turian in the first place.

"It's probably Nihlus, Commander," says Kaidan. Shepard doesn't even look at him, he just closes his eyes for a few seconds. When they open, they're burning with intensity.

"Forget him. We still have a mission." He takes out his own sniper rifle, measuring up the situation. "Right," he mutters. "Right. Alright. I'll take the three leftmost geth. Chief, you get the two in the middle. Corporal, take the right three. Once you've finished your geth, go for the impaled soldiers."

"Wait…couldn't some of the soldiers still not be fully transformed quite yet?" This is Ashley, but I can already tell that there's no hope for any of the soldiers on the poles. If anything, it's more of an argument for the soldiers' honor than the fact that they'd be killed outright.

"They wouldn't want to live this way," says Shepard quietly. "It's not even life. It's something that these androids turned them into. These are mercy killings. Now line up your shots."

I do so without question, eye to the scope immediately. I choose a geth standing by a crate, adjusting slightly above and to the left to account for wind and elevation. _Wait for it…wait for it…_

"Three. Two. One."

After a full second, the geth topples backwards. Before it hits the ground, I've lined up another shot, assuming the geth would take maybe a step towards his fallen compatriot. It pays off too – the second geth is knocked to the ground as the bullet strikes him in the back right between what would be a human's shoulder blades.

By now, my last geth is freaking out, running towards one of the crates for cover. _Bad choice._ Right next to the crate is an upright futuristic fire extinguisher…something I learned about a year ago to be very, VERY explosive. My next bullet rips into it, knocking the geth backwards five feet and into flames…_well, that's ironic_. The geth simply lays there in the fire, as if he's unable to move. Maybe the shock of the explosion made his motor functions temporarily shut down? Either way, he won't be walking out of that fire any time soon.

Now, for the husks. It's not an honorable death by any means…but they're easy to pick off. One by one, I sink shots into their heads. Some of them…some of them still have faces that I can recognize. It's like killing my friends, one by one, simply because it's the less painful and grotesque death in the long run. _But they're already dead._ I have to get that through my head.

"Looks like we're all clear," I say, scanning the area. My voice comes out a little cracked, some bile building up at the back of my throat, but I swallow it back down. "Yep, definitely clear…no hostiles in sight."

"That could've been more than a little messy. Thanks for the heads up," says Kaidan.

"Yeah," agrees Shepard, not taking his eyes off of me. "Uncanny senses you have there, Corporal. Mind if I pose a question? Good." He takes a step towards me, and I lower the rifle from my sniping position. "Why did you look down your scope? The geth were at least 1500 feet from our position, and I know your eyes aren't that good."

_Well, shit. That was faster than I expected._ "We were coming up over a hill," I retort, trying not to sound too defensive. "It's standard procedure to check the area. Not to mention, this is supposedly where we're supposed to find the beacon. It's only natural to assume it would be defended." I'd almost said Saren's name. Knowing this Shepard, that might have been enough to get me shot on the spot.

"Why so suspicious, Commander?" asks Ashley, stepping in to defend me again. "Is something supposed to be out of the ordinary here?"

He hesitates for a moment, but finally Shepard nods to me. "My bad, Corporal. We just lost a Spectre, and we lost another Corporal earlier in the mission, so I'm a bit…" He cocks his head. "On edge. No more time for talk, let's get to the beacon already…this place has worn out its welcome."

* * *

"Well, shit."

I can empathize. The only thing at the space port is a bunch of rubble and flaming debris, with Nihlus' body lying on the ground…I took one look at it earlier, and don't plan on looking again. He might not be human, but a Turian with bits of his head all over the place is gruesome no matter how you spin it. Oh, and we've hit a dead end…for now.

Kaidan gets up from his spot, crouched by Nihlus' body, where he'd been examining the head wound. "Looks like he was shot in the back of the head. The entry wound suggests it was a pistol shot…and the rounds aren't typical of geth weaponry." He closes his eyes, and I'm not sure what he'll do.

"Dammit!" he finally shouts, kicking at one of the lightweight crates. A pained grunt comes from the other end, much to (mostly) everyone's surprise.

"Come out," asks Shepard, his voice authoritative but not all that pressing. Several seconds pass with no answer. "That wasn't a suggestion. Come out, or I'll drop a grenade over the edge of that crate."

"H-h-hey, no need to get hostile here," whispers a nervous voice, loud enough for all of us to hear, and a shifty looking man stands up. He leans on the crate in front of us, scratching his head as he forms his next words. "The n-name's – excuse me, still in a bit of shock. The name's Powell. I'm a dockworker here at this station. I was…I _am_ the only other survivor of the attack that I know of."

Shepard lunges forward with astounding speed and grabs Powell by the shirt, inciting a yelp. He yanks the dockworker over the crate and throws him to the ground before pinning him down with a knee, bringing his face within a foot of Powell's. Powell turns his head to his right, looking at Nihlus' dead body. With a mixture of shock and horror, I notice that Powell's head is resting in the pool of the Turian's blood. _Shepard really doesn't mess around._

"Well, Powell, 'was' and 'am' are pretty important distinctions," Shepard says darkly, not lifting any pressure from his knee. "You see my friend there? The Turian? His name is Nihlus, Powell. You're the only one here, and you thought it was smart to hide from us when we decided to investigate the situation. So, right now, you're the sole suspect in his murder." Powell blinks a couple times and starts to sob, no words leaving his gaping mouth. Shepard brings his face even closer. "This is your chance to prove me otherwise. Start talking."

Commander Shepard stands and brings his assault rifle to bear, training it on the worker. For a few moments, he only sobs and takes shallow breaths, but he manages to calm down enough to start talking again. "N-n-no, not me…I – I couldn't have d-done it, p-please, just d-don't hurt me. Th-the, it was a-another one of the – the Turians, it was another one of those. They s-seemed to know each other, and, and," Powell sniffs and starts breathing shallowly again, but manages to bring it under control yet again. "Y-your friend here…he seemed t-to trust th-th-this…oh God, he shot him right in the back. Just k-killed him in c-cold blood."

Powell breaks down into tears again, his face honestly heartbroken and terrified enough that I feel pity for him, at least for a brief moment. "H-he would have k-killed me t-too. But I was behind the c-crates, see. It doesn't even m-matter now, really. I'm still going to die. You're still going to k-kill me, it doesn't even matter anymore…"

"Have some dignity. For Christ's sake, this isn't even funny anymore," says Shepard, lowering his rifle with a sigh. "Stand up. Why were you behind the crates in the first place?"

"Wait…you mean…" Powell slowly makes his way to his feet, eyes wide. "You're not going to kill me?"

"I might seriously maim you if you bolt instead of giving us the info we need," says Shepard, garnering another look of shock and fear. "But no. I won't kill you. Come on, now, why the hell were you behind those crates in the first place? Bit of an odd place to be when the attack was happening."

Powell rubs his neck, still obviously terrified of Shepard. "Well…for my shift, sometimes I don't exactly…get enough sleep. So, I tend to go behind here to grab forty winks…you know; where my supervisor can't find me."

"So, let me get this straight," says Ash, her face rapidly getting redder with anger as she processes what he said. "You survived because you're a lazy asshole who doesn't like to do his own fucking work? You survived because you're a pathetic piece of – "

"Wait, w-wait, I have some things!" Powell says, rummaging through a crate to his left. He pulls out something wrapped in cloth several times over, and he unfolds it, revealing several grenades in a stack. "See? I figured, well, you need them more than I do, and I took it from the military inventory in the first place – no one misses a few grenades if they go – if they…"

It's sad just how visibly shocked Powell is at what he just said. It's almost something that I want to laugh at, but I hold back.

"So, you greedy sonuvabitch, turns out you're looking to rob us as well," says Ashley. "Don't deny it. You don't give a flying fuck if any of us survive if you can make a couple thousand credits off our misfortune. There were Marines that _died_ today that could have used these. You have _lives _on your hands, Powell. And blood doesn't come out too easily." She reaches out a hand. I'm honestly in shock that her ears aren't smoking. "Give me those so I can shove one up your ass and detonate it."

"Easy, Chief," says Shepard, finally intervening. But he's smirking at her ferocity. "Just give us the grenades and we'll go our separate ways. After a few more questions, of course."

"Anything," says Powell, his forehead sweaty. "I don't care anymore. You could have the clothes off my back, apparently I would deserve it."

"No, I just need – " Shepard pauses, as if considering actually taking Powell's clothes for shits and giggles, but quickly regains his composure. "I just need to know where the other Turian went, where the beacon is, and what the Turian's name is. Then we'll let you be on your merry way."

"O-okay," says the worker, taking a deep breath. "The Turian – he took the train. It's right over there –" He points, and we look in that direction. "And he took the beacon with him. And his name…one second, the other one kept calling him it…Sarah? Saren? I think that's it, yeah." Powell's repeating things now, looking worried. "I…I need to get away from all of this. Can I go now?"

Shepard shrugs. "Be my guest."

He doesn't need to be asked twice. In about a minute, he's over a hill and out of sight.

"You have an…_unconventional _way of handling things," I observe, and we start walking towards the train Powell directed us to use.

"It works, doesn't it?" says Shepard. He takes the assault rifle off his back and continues jogging with it at the ready. Like an afterthought, he taps the grenades Powell had given us that now hang from his belt. "Oh, and check it, we got free shit too. I only reap what I've sown, Corporal."

"In this case, it tends to be the seeds of fear and nervous respect," says Kaidan as we round a corner, stumbling into the clutches of two very surprised geth. Shepard doesn't even flinch, firing precise bursts at each geth to take them out of commission before I can fire a single pistol shot.

"Glad to see your observance in action, Alenko," says Shepard. "Take up positions! Let's get some geth in the air, Lieutenant – me and Chief Williams will take the stairs and make our advance. Corporal Benson, take out any snipers you can spot on the train. Now move!"

I jog down the stairs partially with them, staying out of sight while they take a few bullets to their shields. I set the barrel of my rifle on a rail of the stairs and scan for dark brown armor, the type the sniper geth tend to wear – ah, there's one. The train isn't very heavily reinforced at all, with maybe six geth on board at the moment, but there are a couple fellow snipers for me to deal with, at least.

The first shot I aim for the sniper's arm, and it takes it through the shoulder instead – no matter, now it won't be able to shoot. I slowly pivot the rifle to center on another geth, squeezing the trigger so it can take him in the chest, but he ducks at the last second to avoid fire from Shepard and Ashley, and it only depletes his shields. I adjust my grip slightly and angle the barrel downwards and fire again. This time, the shot's clean, and the geth goes down, the bullet embedded just below its 'neck.'

All of the geth seem to be out of commission, now. One is floating, at least a hundred feet up now, and Kaidan adjusts his biotic grip on it slightly. The thing falls, and with no train below it to interrupt its journey, it continues down into the ground. A resounding crunch echoes at its arrival.

The sniper geth I'd shot in the shoulder before is whirring in a terrified way, holding up its one good hand. I remember ME2 and Legion, feeling a bit of remorse for the thing's fate…but, after all, it was trying to kill us. Shepard walks up to it and sticks his assault rifle right in front of its flashlight face, and it backs up slightly, whirring and clicking more, as if its trying to formulate language.

_Have these geth literally forgotten all of their roots? They used to be capable of speech, and these are barely animals now…terrified of the impending storm._

Shepard hesitates at the gesture, and the robot sinks further to the ground, the arm holding the sniper rifle almost fully detached from its torso. It buzzes and makes another few high pitched noises, before finally formulating actual words to communicate.

"Mercy," it says, the toneless voice grinding. "Mercy."

"Where was mercy when you wiped out this unit?" Shepard isn't sure he wants to pull the trigger; I can see it in his face. Even with an artificial life form, it's clear that the Commander has more of a conscience than I could see at first…he isn't sure about what he's going to do here.

"This unit is merely one gear in a collective machine," whirs the geth, sparks issuing from its shoulder. "This unit is not malevolent or benevolent to its cause. It merely serves a greater purpose."

"One gear is still a part of the machine," Shepard says, eyes alight with fire. "And if you destroy enough gears, the machine will fail."

The robot starts to emit a last high-pitched noise, but it's cut off as several shots are pumped into its light. The glass shatters, and the geth slumps, its joints freezing in place as the processor shuts down permanently.

"I'd have shot the damn thing sooner rather than later," says Ashley. "No room for pity in a world with these…things."

Kaidan's starting up the train, his fingers blurring over the controls. "Pity's what separates us from the robots. We need to remember that…now more than ever."

"It's a little sad, when you think about it," I say. "I wonder if these things know exactly what they've gotten into."

"It doesn't matter if they do or don't know. As long as they work against us, they're the enemy." Shepard nods to Kaidan, and the train starts up.

_Here we go, then._

_

* * *

_

When we arrive, the first thing I notice is that there are a lot of geth here. Like…far more than in the game. This is going to be a trial in itself to survive.

The second thing I notice is the bombs. And I'm pretty sure it won't be as simple as walking up and pressing the 'a' button to disable them.

"Fuckin' A," says Shepard, surveying everything as we pull in. The train starts to slow down, and geth start realizing that the train has something (or someone) in it. "Alright, we're going to have to move fast. Alenko, you'll be in charge of disabling those devices. Give me a status report on how many minutes they have left on the timers. Williams, I need you to cover him, keep the fire off his back and so such. He'll be very vulnerable when he's disabling the charges. Corporal, I need you to pick off the tougher geth. If it's bigger than the rest, shoot it till it stops moving, that simple." The train comes to a halt and the first bullets fly towards us, luckily off target. "I'll be clearing out the infantry. Whatever you do, stay behind cover unless you're shooting. Move out!"

I'm already sprinting to cover as he shouts the last sentence, feeling bullets ricocheting off my shields in the process. I run up the first set of stairs and slide as I come up to a thicker looking wall, taking out a pistol for a moment. There are tons of geth here…thirty in sight, maybe, and that's not counting any of the ones in the back with the beacon. As the first geth rounds the corner, I fire rapidly at his legs and watch as the rounds tear into it, the first few bouncing off his shields while the rest shred its ankles. As he's going down, I lunge forwards to his legs and push upwards, making him flip over the rail and into God-knows-what.

The Commander – was his first name Jericho? You'd think it'd be easy to remember something that important – races by me, spraying rounds at the incoming geth as I switch to my sniper. He's ridiculously accurate at close range, taking down a couple geth and maiming others. I stare down my scope, searching for larger enemies, and find one in white armor. _Shock trooper._ I set up my rifle and aim down the sights, about to pull the trigger, when suddenly bullets rattle around my position.

"Dammit," I swear, ducking back down before my shields can be completely depleted. I scramble forward on my hands and knees and aim between two plates mounted on the walkway. This time, I manage to get off my shots, destroying the shock trooper's shields the first time, and knocking him off the walkway on the second. He was dead before he hit the ground, a bullet in his stomach tearing out a significant amount of wiring.

I rotate the rifle slightly and notice a trooper dressed in reddish burgundy. But he looks taller and more menacing than the rocket launcher geth typically are…_shit_. A juggernaut. Shepard must have thought the same thing, because through my scope I see a grenade come flying at the geth, striking it in the chest – and Shepard activates it. The explosion knocks the geth over, but it doesn't stop moving, getting to its feet with a grim determination characteristic of robots. A rocket flies out of its weapon towards Shepard and I get my head back into the battle. I pump my first shot into its head, knocking it back down, and pump another in its back as it rolls over. There's no kill like overkill.

"First charge is disabled!" comes Kaidan's voice from behind us, and he slides down near our position. "Their timers are down to 6 minutes, and the last one was at 4 when I finished it. There's still about 3 more, according to the heat signatures."

"Then hurry up!" shouts Jericho Shepard back. "I won't be able to give you a medal if we're all crispy shaped!"

Kaidan sprints to the next bomb to disable it, throwing a geth off the platform with a well-placed biotic attack. I snipe another geth headed his way and its body slams into a nearby wall. "Is crispy technically a shape, Commander?"

"Absolutely," he answers me. "It's the shape you get when your body is charred and evaporated. Like toast."

It doesn't make a lot of sense, but I keep firing anyways. A geth with brown armor is ducked away behind a crate; a fellow sniper. My shots are coming easier now that I'm getting used to checking down and allowing room for wind. My bullet drills it right through the head, knocking the rifle out of its hand as it falls backwards. Geth are starting to get closer now, but I focus on the back ranks still. _Hurry up Kaidan,_ I think as I send another round at a geth. Right in the stomach. It staggers a bit before assault rifle rounds tear through it; Shepard or Ashley's work no doubt.

I glance at Jericho briefly, then go back to shooting the geth before they get too close. The rocket the juggernaut fired must have impacted well in front of him, or he would have been dead, shields or no. The Commander has scorch marks running up and down his chest armor, and I have no doubt that he's hurting as well…but he keeps firing, shouting insults at the geth. "You still aim from the hip? Typical. No wonder you're inaccurate little assholes! I'm going to smash your head with a lead pipe and –" He ducks a few shots and returns fire, driving a couple geth to the ground. "– and hang the wiring on a chandelier over the ship mess. That's right, I'm old school bitches!"

"One more bomb!" shouts Kaidan. "Two and a half minutes left on the clock, they aren't too hard after you've done it once."

As he runs out of cover briefly so he can get to the last charge, several bullets impact his shields, and one or two even tear through. The Lieutenant stumbles forward, lunging for cover. The next part seemed to happen in slow motion. A geth in black and yellow armor steps forward out of cover, towering at almost eleven feet tall, and fires a concentrated ball of energy at Kaidan just as he's about to make it behind cover. With uncanny speed, Kaidan activates some sort of biotic barrier around his body and it absorbs the blast, but he's thrown against a wall by the sheer kinetic force.

_Shit, this didn't happen in the games._ Shepard pops out of cover to attack the destroyer and empties dozens of rounds into its chest and upper body, effectively tearing it to pieces, before ducking behind cover once more. He drags Kaidan's limp form away from any fire it might attract and starts applying Medigel to a chest wound.

"What the hell are you looking at, Corporal? We need to take these things out!"

I nod at Ashley – she's right, again – and I continue sniping. Only a few geth are left…but there's still another explosive. And if we can't disable that, we're fucked no matter what.

I take a grenade off my belt and take a deep breath. This isn't going to be easy…and if I die here, there's no guarantee of anything. Besides maybe heaven. And even that I'm not sure of. One more breath: okay, I sprint out of my cover towards the last explosive, firing my pistol with one hand at a geth. If AI can be surprised, this one was – or maybe that was just the fact that it got shot so many times in about a second. I dive to cover, throwing the grenade towards another couple of geth as I do, feeling my shields completely deplete – but thankfully, I don't get shot again. _Click_ goes the detonator.

I come back out of cover for a moment to watch Williams shoot the last geth, slicing a diagonal pattern with her rifle from its waist to its left shoulder. The geth collapses in two pieces – no, I'm not joking, literally _two pieces!_ I have no time to admire her handiwork though. I run to the last explosive and examine it for a moment. 1:33 and counting. Right…just remember your training.

I start by bringing up my omnitool's interface and hacking into the explosives hardwiring. See, explosives in the future aren't quite the same – well, some are, but most aren't. This type of explosive is expensive. Computer based detonation mechanism with fail-safes and internal barriers to protect against hotwiring…they're nasty, fosho. I quickly press a combination of keys and run them through the omnitool, then enter the exported key into the explosives device. Alright, part one is complete. Next, I upload a virus that I'd developed on my own – technically, it's a little _discouraged _to do so. But because of the adaptations I've made, I'm able to hack much faster than others typically can, and it bypasses more networks without alerting them of my presence. Oh…back to what I was saying before. Now that the virus is uploaded, I can give it commands from my omnitool, in this case, to seek out the central cortex of the explosive device. In seconds it has control, and a couple swift keystrokes, execute immediate shutdown –

Done. The device's lights blink out, and I smile.

"Damn," says Ashley. "That took…about thirty seconds. That's incredible."

"I'm not much good at anything else besides sniping and hacking, so I figured I should at least work on those a lot," I admit. "So, I'm pretty good…there was this one guy in basic that could probably do it five times that fast. Crazy son of a bitch. But…thanks."

Before I've even finished speaking, I'm up and jogging to where Kaidan is. This could be a serious mistake I made, by interfering with the mission how I did. I mean, I don't think I'm the reason he got shot, but the butterfly effect can be tricky as hell. _He can't die. This never happened in the video game. And it'll make Virmire so much stranger…come on, just don't think about Virmire right now. You can't deal with that, but you can deal with this. Now._

Kaidan's pale, a few wounds in his stomach, and his armor is partially off so that Shepard can work on the injuries. But his eyes are open, and he snorts.

"See? He took care of it fine. Have a little faith in the kid."

Shepard groans, standing up and tossing a packet at the Lieutenant. "You know what? Fine. Take care of your own damn wounds, you psycho bastard." The corners of his mouth twitch, as if he's holding back a grin.

"Don't have to Shepard, I'll be fine," says Kaidan, standing up slowly. The Medigel is already working. Slowly, his wounds are healing – but he winces as he stands up, leaning against a wall.

"With all due respect, he should probably stay here, Commander," says Ash. "The Medigel works better on severe wounds like that when the user _stops_ moving."

He smiles, rubbing more of the gel on one of the wounds that's oozing blood again. The skin starts to tauten and it scabs over. "If I don't stretch it out, I'm fine. We need to go get that beacon already. And you might need my biotics for whatever other enemies are waiting."

"So," I say, coming to terms with everything, "you'll be fine? This isn't the 'oh, carry on without me' routine and bull?"

The smile grows. "Oh, I've had much worse than this. I'll pull through, easy."

"Heartwarming, I'm sure." Shepard rolls his eyes. "Once we secure that beacon, we can have a fiesta celebrating Drake's sweet technological skills and how tough Kaidan's skin is. But that's _afterwards._"

I nod, and we head in the direction of the beacon. "Is that a promise, Commander? A fiesta would make my day; I haven't had something like that since –"

"Shut up, Corporal."

* * *

In all honesty, the beacon has hardly anything guarding it. Two standard geth troopers and several wandering husks…looks like most everything that could hear us tried to take us out, with a couple geth staying behind to safeguard the beacon.

"There it is!" Ashley's right, I can see the beacon. The green light its emitting extends farther into the atmosphere than my eyes can see.

I've already got my rifle out and I'm aiming down the scope when one of the geth spots us. The first shot I fire strikes him in the arm, and I adjust so the next hits him in the head. "Damn straight," I mutter. The other geth has only taken a couple steps forward when he's lifted from his feet and thrown back by biotic energy, little specks of blue energy flickering around his body. A trailing hum resounds as he careens off the cliff and into a vast nothingness. It seems like most enemies that meet Kaidan have a history of finding an abyss to fall into.

Soon, the husks begin their descent from the poles, and a chill runs down my spine once again. But there are only four of the bastards, and considering what we've been through, it's a bit of a cakewalk. The four of us slowly advance down the stairs and onto the platform with the beacon, firing all the while. I have my pistol out now, as does Kaidan, and a singularity entraps three of the husks. Shepard and Ashley make short work of them, pressing their rifles up against their upper bodies and firing several rounds off. Kaidan himself limps somewhat towards a husk as it rushes towards him. I want to shoot, but I don't want to hit Alenko…turns out my concerns weren't even necessary. He waits until it gets a couple feet away before bringing his pistol up with both hands, striking it in the face so hard that the husk is knocked into the air, cracking its head again on the ground. His pistol trains on the reanimated soldier's head.

Three shots, point blank. Yep, it's definitely not going to be moving again any time soon.

"Nice one," says Ash, the surprise evident in her voice.

"I told you, I'm fine," he says, locking eyes with Ash for a moment…well, more than a moment. "Just felt like letting loose a little."

He doesn't smile…and neither do any of the rest of us. There's been a lot of shit that's gone down today. At least we have the beacon now.

The giddiness comes back up in my stomach from thinking about how I got here. Such a crazy mix of circumstances, all (exempting my death, and all) perfectly logical. And all of a sudden, I'm here with Commander Jericho Shepard and his crew, about to embark on an epic journey to save the galaxy. _Oooh, tingles._

"The beacon is secure," reports Shepard, a finger to his ear. He brings up his omnitool and I see it triangulating our position. He messes with it a little and nods. "You should be getting our position in a second….got it? Great. I'm here with two survivors of unit 212…yes, that's all. Intel fucked up, Captain." He pauses for longer this time. "I know there was no way to know. But, we lost Jenkins…and Nihlus is dead too." Another long pause. "I'll give a full status report when we're back on the _Normandy_, sir. Shepard out."

I hear the bass hum of the beacon warming up – oh shit, it's Ash. Shepard's the first to act, thankfully…and then he's taken up by the beacon's energy.

It's a weird perspective, seeing it from someone else's perspective. He twitches eerily, like his body isn't even within his control, and I shiver to know what's happening. Ashley tries to go to him, of course, and Kaidan restrains her…okay, I'll be perfectly honest. This is terribly anticlimactic. But if I could see his face, I would know just how terrifying this must be. And even without being able to, I remember from the game, all the flashes and imagery, the Reapers destroying the Protheans…and I can't talk about any of it. Damn, this sucks. I could prevent a lot of pain if I could just tell them what's going to happen…but what would they say? Even if I _somehow_ convinced them that I was right, there was still the Council. And even after being attacked, there was that damn Turian…

_Ah yes, 'Reapers.'_

I'm barely even paying attention as the beacon is destroyed. The minutes blur. I think back to Manuel's forecast (partly cloudy with 99% chance of death) and the various events of today. When the _Normandy_ lands, I just stare for a moment.

"That's one sexy ship," I say.

"That's understating it," says Kaidan. "Here, Drake, can you help me with Shepard here? We'll need to bring him to the med-bay so Doctor Chakwas can –"

"Why not me?" Ashley glares at him, and he rubs his neck awkwardly. "Is it because I'm a woman? I'm plenty strong enough to help with this."

"Well, uh…" He winces. "That didn't even cross my mind, to be honest. The fact that you're a woman, I mean. Not that it isn't obvious – it just had no, uh, bearing in my…decision…" Kaidan sighs. "I'm just digging a hole here. If you want to lift him so bad, be my guest. You and the Corporal can take him aboard."

The loading ramp to the _Normandy_ opens and out he walks – the famous Captain Anderson. Famous in my universe, anyways. Ashley and I get a grip on the Commander and we lift, starting up the ramp. Besides the Captain, there's another man – is that Navigator Pressly? I'm willing to bet that it is.

"What in the hell – Lieutenant Alenko, what happened here?" Anderson looks at the beacon behind us too, or at least what's left of it. "The Commander – I'm going to assume this all has something to do with the beacon, Alenko?"

"Captain Anderson," he says first, saluting. "I'll brief you in just a minute, and the Commander should be able to give you more details if – I mean, _when_ he makes up."

The Captain nods to us slowly. "I'll hazard a guess that you're the two soldiers left from unit 212. Ugly business, to be sure. I'm sorry for all of your losses…it can't be easy, I'm sure." He glances at Shepard's unconscious body again. "Not to be rude, but we can discuss the details later. Pressly, if you could escort them to the medical bay? Alenko and I have some things to discuss."

Walking up the ramp to the _Normandy_, with Commander Shepard's heavy body in my arms, a wave of anxiety washes over me. It's actually happening. I'm on the _Normandy._

And things are about to get a _lot_ more interesting.


	3. Chapter 2: Choice Hops and Bottled Self

_CHAPTER NOTES: Wow, getting a lot more positive feedback than I expected! All of it's appreciated, folks. I also really appreciate the shout-out I got from Herr Wozzeck, the creator of __Mass Vexations__ – oh, some of you haven't read it? Go do so now, and prepare for more pop-culture references and monologue than you or I could possibly comprehend, all in a delicious Vexation-y package. It's honestly an awesome SI, the one I referenced, back in the Prologue of this…so yeah. Read it, and be enlightened. And then read the second installment too, just for good measure._

_Just to let you guys know, I've had a hyper-intense supernaturally influenced migraine. Or at least, it felt that way. I actually spent all of Wednesday in the ER, which was a pain in the ass. It's fine when you're doped up to the point you don't care, but I had morphine and some anti-nausea drug in my system and lay there without human interaction in the dark for a couple hours…nice-ish when you have a migraine, but when you also have needles in your arm and other instruments attached to you, it leads to panic attacks and nothing great. Anyways, after my CT scan, I was informed that it might be meningitis and went through a spinal tap. _

_Ugh. _

_After that painful procedure, I learned that it was just a complex bitch of a migraine, and I should take another day off college (so I did). This chapter was written in about four days, since the rest was spent in the dark, hating my head. Not sure how many of you would care, but I thought I'd at least inform you. Whoop!_

_So, last chapter was the thrilling escape from Eden Prime, in which we learned that Shepard is a somewhat sadistic Renegade dude that feels sympathy under extreme duress, Kaidan is a sarcastic but tough L2, Ash is probably the most sympathetic character out of the three (unlike in ME1) and my character, Drake, is black. Apparently there aren't too many SI stories with African American characters (whoda thunkit). More shall be explored on their characters this chapter, particularly Drake's._

_Onwards! This chapter explores character relationships a decent bit more, and the chapter might also offend others, whilst simultaneously insinuating that those offended are the bad ones. I found that amusing to write. The rest of the chapter explores Citadel events in a…unique way; let's just leave it at that._

_Well, that's about it. Enjoy!_

_PS: I might have Chapter 3 come out sooner than usual, since this chapter is a little briefer than I wanted it to be._

* * *

Chapter 2: Choice Hops and Bottled Self Esteem

I know he's going to be fine, but I'll be damned if this isn't the creepiest thing. Shepard just lays there, frown lines on his face, and occasionally he'll twitch. Too bad he'll be out for fifteen hours…that just means I need to find something else to do for _all that time_.

I'm exhausted as all hell, but I can't sleep – not while I'm on the _Normandy_! That's like going to a gig just to set up a tent and sleep on the dance floor. _Then again, I'm really fucking exhausted…bah, humbug! Onwards, to glory and character interaction!_

"Soooo…Dr. Chakwas." I sit down on a nearby hospital bed. "What's your opinion on the Commander?"

The doctor shrugs. "Honestly? If not for Captain Anderson's explicit recommendations, I wouldn't think too much of him. He's self-absorbed and too overconfident for my liking. Not to mention, he employs violence in his missions far too frequently, and finds reasons to do so even on the simple ones. There is something else to him, though…a second layer of something good, deep down."

Dr. Horrible echoes in my mind. _And sometimes, there's a third layer, even deeper down, that's just the same as the first layer. Like pie._ "I'll be honest, the whole time we were down there, I felt like he was _trying_ to find excuses to dislike me. But I'll get him. I'm too damn charming to fail."

She snorts and I feel some of the awkward tension evaporate. "Modest, too." Chakwas pauses, lost in thought for a moment. "The Commander does come on strong. But give him some time…he's a good man at heart, it's just that he has a crueler method."

"Good guys with cruel methods? Sounds like that whole 'end justifies the means' bull." I slide off the bed. "I'll be perfectly honest, there's always a different means to go about with…umm…" I pause and grin to myself. "Bringing about an end…it sounded a lot better in my head, really."

Chakwas nods, raising a device in her hand and swiping it over Shepard. "Vitals are still stable," she mumbles softly. "Hmm. I understand what you're saying. I suppose that you and Shepard are a sort of metaphorical semicircle."

I pause again, as if in thought…okay, I give up. "I honestly have no clue what the hell that means."

"Think of it this way." She sits back down. "In this case, Shepard is the line. He likes to get it done quickly, no matter what the cost might be of doing so. Whereas you would be the curved line, preferring to take a longer route as opposed to endangering others." The doctor sits back down, crossing her legs. "Both have the same endpoint, but you prefer to take different paths to reach your destination. Not a perfect metaphor, of course…I'm sure that you would take a route endangering others for the greater good in some cases, and Jericho might – excuse me, the Commander – might believe the cost of risking others to be too great at times."

"Fair enough," I say. "Where do you think you rest on that…semicircle?" _This is a weirdass metaphor._

"I don't, I'm too busy patching you lunatics up." Her smile fades as she actually takes it into consideration. "But honestly…perhaps somewhere in the middle. It's difficult to say unless you're put in that situation. When you see Shepard act in a situation of this sort, perhaps you'll change your opinion of him. Or perhaps the way he behaves will set it in stone. Either way, a few hours in combat with the man shouldn't be enough to make up your mind about him. I'd tell him the same thing about you."

"I guess," I mutter, closing my eyes and thinking. _Who knows, maybe she's right. He didn't seem like a completely bad person…just a little careless. _"It's something that's always fascinated me. When you think about something from your perspective, it's easy to dismiss all of the other views. I try to disassociate myself from all that partisan mumbo-jumbo, but it's also really easy to be a hypocrite, like I was just then…it's nice to have another point-of-view to keep you straight." I open my eyes, my mouth curving upwards in a wry smile. "Don't suppose you've ever considered being a psychologist, Doctor?"

"Not for a minute," she says back. "I'll admit; my line of work has taken me places I never would have expected to go. But that's not all a bad thing. I wouldn't trade this job for anything whatsoever. Except perhaps being the Sous-Chef at the le Restaurant noir d'Amour." She rolls her eyes and sighs. "But that's another matter entirely."

_A chef? The doctor aboard the _Normandy_ has a secret desire to cook? Now THAT'S wacky._

"Well, I'll be off," I say, stretching my arms out as I get off the bed. "Gotta say, didn't expect you for the cooking type."

"Like I said, wait to judge people until you've known them a little longer." Doctor Chakwas smiles again, and then she looks to Shepard. "It's just as well, anyways. I need to examine the Commander a little further."

* * *

The med-lab doors shut behind me, and I come out to the mess area. Kaidan and Ash are both sitting down, with half eaten plates of food in front of them. Ash's eyes are red like she'd been crying a little, and I sympathize. She just – correction, _we_ just lost our entire unit. _Shit. We just lost our entire unit._

All but a select few of the people I've been in contact with for the past two months are _dead._

I sit down next to her at the table and look at her, trying not to cry myself. Her eyes meet mine for a moment and they start to glisten. "Fuck." She wipes at her eyes as she tries to compose herself and grits her teeth, coughing once. "Corporal," she says simply. "How's the Commander doing? It'd be a damn shame if this was all for nothing…oh, who am I kidding. They won. The geth won. Our entire fucking unit got wiped out, and that stupid fucking beacon was blown up…this wasn't even a battle, it was a fucking massacre." Fresh tears shine on the surface of her eyes. "We could have done better, Drake. We could've saved more of them. We should have been faster, we s-should've…d-dammit. Ugh." The tears are freshly flowing again, and I see Kaidan wince.

"Ash," I say softly. I bite my lip, determined not to give into the tears myself. "You did your best. I wouldn't want to be in any other patrol when shit went sour. You handled yourself incredibly well, and if you're putting any of this blame on yourself, you're trying too hard to be the scapegoat." I won't deny it; this hurts like hell. You'd think that virtual characters won't matter as much, but then you immerse yourself in the game…and it fails to even be a game anymore. So what? I cared about Ash. A lot. I liked when she'd recite random poetry and help me out with my sniping. And it sucked to see her in a spot like this.

"Look," I finally say. "Moping around isn't going to help anything. I know you're upset, and you deserve to be, after all this stupid shit that's been forced upon us. But I owe my life to you, and you are _not_ going to whine about what a failure you are. You're going to eat this –"

I pause. "Eh, Kaidan…you mind if I just call you Kaidan here? Off the record?"

"Go for it."

"What are you two eating?"

"Macaroni and cheese space rations. With fried varren bacon."

"Varren bacon?" I still preferred pork bacon slightly, but damn, varren bacon was _good._ "I might want some of that later. But yeah…you're going to eat this macaroni and cheese, or so help me Chief…I'll eat it for you."

Ash rolls her eyes, stifling a laugh. "Not in a million years, Corporal. I haven't had fried bacon in months." She finally takes another bite, wrinkling up her face in mock derision.

I bring her in for a sideways, one-armed hug, beaming as she seems to be returned to normal. "See, nig nogs? You'll be fine." I eye Kaidan. "Hey bro…don't suppose I'll be able to snag some of this mac'n'cheese? My stomach's about to eat itself."

"Three things," he says, hiding a grin. "Firstly, you can call me Kaidan, Alenko, Lieutenant Alenko, Lieutenant, or any variation…but you _will not_ call me bro. Second, sure." He tosses a packet to me. "The thermo-cooker is just behind you. And lastly…nig nogs?" Kaidan snorts. "Is that even a word?"

I smile even more, glancing at the packet. _10 seconds. Technology is amazing._ I set it and turn back to the Lieutenant. "See, when I was a young, upstart fool back on Earth, we would call each other…eh…_variations_ of that." The thermo-cooker beeps.

"It's his annoying ass pet name for me, if that's what you're asking," says Ashley after finishing a bite of the mac. "He started calling me it after the first few days in my section. I swear, I can't get him to stop…I tried to tell my officer it was a breach of protocol, but he thought it was too fucking hilarious to stop him."

"One of the few good things Herman ever did, that cowardly bastard," I say. "But back on Earth, I and my homies would call each other…ah…nigga."

Kaidan blinks, but wisely chooses to keep eating the mac'n'cheese. "Hmm. I could've sworn that fell out of style years ago."

"Not where I'm from, it didn't," I say. "It's casual as fuck, man. Like, 'hey nigga, pass me the salsa.' Or 'yo niglet, I could use a bit of that turian ale.' You feel me?" I tear into the mac with a fork, closing my eyes. _This is ten times better than that toothpaste shit you see in the astronaut movies. _"It's not meant to be offensive or anything. That's always misinterpreted by most people nowadays, and it was –" I swallow, making sure not to say _back then_. "Back home, too. Just how society and culture works, I suppose. But I'll never get used to not saying it. I just kind of have to, seeing as the reference is a legitimate breach of military protocol, and it's not funny enough for me to get leeway from a superior officer…usually, anyway."

Kaidan pauses for a moment, surveying his mac and toying with it. His fork stops suddenly, and he looks back up. "So, like…is it offensive when a, umm…" He scratches his head. "When a white guy says it?"

I laugh outright, not holding back. "Nigga, please. It's that hesitation that breeds racism and xenophobia all over the galaxy in the first place. It's when it's used to offend or subject others to cruelty that it becomes a bad thing…and only then. There are all these people who consider it a breach of protocol, and I agree with them. Don't say it to those under your command…it's just a recipe for trouble. But when you're just laid-back, chilling with some friends, enjoying some speed-heated varren bacon with mac'n'cheese, feel _free _to say it." I dig back into my food, relaxing. "It helps us folk grow close to each other; get all friendly with the people who'll be watching your back. Embrace the culture, man."

"Maybe later," says Kaidan, chuckling. "I don't think I'm ready to dive headlong into that. Never been one for swear words, particularly used in reference to another person."

"Fair enough," I relent, taking a bite of the mac. We eat the rest of the meal in silence, the air filled with unspoken camaraderie.

* * *

As I came to find out, there weren't sleeper pods on this version of the Normandy, but over two dozen rooms. Since the crew was made of maybe twenty people at the moment, it wasn't difficult at all to make space on the second level for that – and even though they were smaller than the dorms at my old college, they gave the place a sense of homeliness.

"Nice," I murmur to myself as I sit on my bed, staring at the blank walls and monotone bedspread. I'd have to rectify that later. Maybe get some of my new favorite bands from the future on the walls, with the digital posters and so-such…or maybe print out some old-school posters of the bands from my day. Give the place some flavor; make it my own for the moment…if I wasn't booted off the _Normandy _the second we reached the Citadel, that is.

_At least it's not Jenkins' room,_ I think with a shiver. That would've been awkward as hell, getting used to living in a space that was occupied by a dead soldier…one with a mighty fine beret, at that. I adjust my own beret at the thought.

When I lay down, I start to ponder the day's events yet again. Everything fell into place so eerily well…as though it was meant to be. Or maybe, as though I wasn't meant to be. _Dammit Manuel, now you've got me thinking about all this supernatural bullshit, about whether I'm going to dramatically change the forthcoming events…but what if I do? Is this some giant guilt trip just waiting to happen? Or am I going to die on an early mission and fade into memory…and maybe my old body…_

"This is just too much to think about right now," I say, tossing my beret to the floor. I strip to my boxers and hop into bed, letting the Sandman shut my eyelids tight as I lapse into the realm of dreams.

* * *

To be honest, I don't have a single dream worth remembering, except for one where I'm harpooning squid in an ocean off the coast of…Australia? Either way, it's not important to the story. In what seems like an instant, I'm back on my feet and headed to the infirmary to see if Shepard's awake.

"Drake, wait!" It's Ashley, off by the mess, eating again. "Captain Anderson's in there having a word with the Commander. And, well…" She grins. "Damn, you were out for a while. I'm guessing you haven't heard, then?"

I blink. She's right – if the Commander's already having a word with the Captain, I was out for about 14 hours. But hey, I was exhausted. "Of course I haven't heard; I got up about five seconds ago. What's up?"

"Well," she says, "I hate the idea of filling a dead man's shoes…but the _SSV Normandy_ is short on crew. Captain Anderson requested that both of us be transferred to his crew for the time being, seeing as we don't have a unit. And in a time like this, with so little to be thankful for…this really is a blessing. I mean, have you seen this ship? The technology on it is absolutely amazing."

_Yes! That's out of the way then; I don't have to worry about being ditched on the Citadel or any weak sauce bull._ "That's…interesting news," I say, holding back my enthusiasm. It's not too difficult, considering that I'm still semi-groggy with the after-effects of sleep. "I'm going to head up to the deck, maybe…talk with the pilot or something."

"It's really a good thing, once you get over the shock of it," Ash says as I walk up the stairs leading to the deck. "We'll be at the heart of the storm, instead of always sidelined and…well, never mind."

I loosely remember Ashley's past from the games…about her grandfather, and how her family's name had been so tainted. A pang of guilt runs through me. This probably means a lot more to her than it even does to me, even though I know what's going to happen…she finally feels as though she's part of something important. After being ignored for so long simply because of her family's name, she has a chance to make a name for herself.

_Rest assured, you will grasshopper,_ I'm tempted to say. She has no fucking clue.

"You'll do fine," I call back down. "Hell, I'm on this crew, it'll be tough to look anything short of amazing." I really wish I had that sort of confidence. Faking it is just going to have to do for the moment.

From the instant I step on deck, I'm overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the ship…something that couldn't possibly be accurately portrayed in the games. Networking panels surround the galaxy map; all lit up with orange and yellow, and the map itself…wow. It's simply stunning. Little specks of white and red, miniature green and blue nebulas, so much detail that I'm tempted to step up and try to access it. But I'm not the Captain. And I never will be – this'll be Shepard's boat.

But the galaxy map isn't even the greatest aspect. I keep walking forward, nearing the pilot's section. Outside of us is the real thing, stars and understated majesty that you can't quite see from the ground…not with pollution and things. Here, in space, everything is perfect. I stare out a window in wonder. When I'd first been shipped to Eden Prime, it had been in a transport vessel with no windows except for in the pilot's cabin, which was off limits to the soldiers. Here I can see space in all its wondrous glory, unobstructed, lovely, honest…forgive the pun, but I'm getting starry-eyed just standing here.

"It's something, isn't it?" I turn at the voice – Seth Green's voice – and see Joker there in his chair. Joker, in the flesh. _Dayum._

"Yeah," I breathe. "You could say that. I mean…goddamn, that's just ridiculous. I've never really seen it from the confines of a ship. It's just…just…"

"Fucking gorgeous," finishes the pilot. "Don't worry about it. I'm the pilot for Christ's sake, and even I get overwhelmed by the scope of everything from time to time." He extends a hand and swivels his chair in my direction. "The name's Jeff, Jeff Moreau. Everyone here just calls me Joker though."

"Drake Benson," I say, taking his hand. "People call me Drake. Apparently it's tough to come up with anything clever as a nickname for that."

"You just haven't been around the right people," he says back. "Trust me, people are going to come up with something else to call you, appropriate or not. I mean, do I look like a funny guy? Don't answer that. The point is, I got labeled Joker for _not_ joking. Who knows, maybe you'll get named Tiny for eating too much."

"Trying to say I'm a fatass, Joker?" I sit in one of the unoccupied seats, careful not to touch any of the critical looking areas.

Joker doesn't even flinch. "Nah, you're too fit-looking. Soldier types, I swear. Maybe that should be your nickname, Fatass…huh…nah, it's too brutish, not enough class. Don't worry, we'll get you one soon. It's only a matter of time."

I glance up ahead. One of the lights that we're headed towards is growing brighter at a crazy rate. Wait…could that be…?

"Great timing, Commander," says Joker. I turn – yep, the Commander's right there. Looking a bit disoriented, admittedly, but I can tell that it's the same man that was giving orders before. "We're just coming up on the Citadel now. See that taxpayer money at work."

I glance back out the window and notice the relay in all its grandiose glory once more, but it keeps growing closer…and closer…the _Normandy_ is enveloped in it, and yet it keeps growing.

"Damn," I say. "You don't realize just how fucking gigantic these things are until you're right on top of them."

"Makes you wonder about whatever built them," says Ashley. "I can't even fathom what sort of race had the power to do so…and the materials! Imagine how many cubic feet of metal it takes to build something of this size…"

"And the sheer amount of element zero," murmurs Kaidan. "For a rare material, there sure seems to be a lot in each relay."

"Hitting the relay in 3…2…1…" Joker's voice is all but drowned out when we're thrown out of motion. I know that there is no sound in space, but in the _Normandy_, there's no lack of noise. The ship slows rapidly, and I begin to notice the spatial clouds surrounding the vessel. Which means that in just a few minutes, we'll be coming up on the Citadel.

I couldn't even predict the beauty of the space station if I tried to. I mean, I know that it's the Reapers that built this thing, but they must have had some taste…if they could make something so incredible, so aesthetically pleasing. I shut my mouth the instant I realize I've been gaping. There must be a star behind it or something…the Widow, I think was the name of it. The station awaits us with open arms. Literally.

"Look at the size of that ship!" At first, I assume Ash is referring to the Citadel, but then I see it – the Ascension. Damn. If anything, that makes the Citadel seem even larger.

"The Ascension," echoes Kaidan. "Flagship of the Citadel fleet."

"The Ascension's nothing compared to the Citadel itself," I say, staring at the behemoth space station. "I mean, sure it can't attack anything – but damn. That thing's absolutely gigantic. I wouldn't have noticed the Ascension if you hadn't pointed it out, that's how huge this shit is."

"But look at the cannon on that thing! It could blow through any Alliance cruiser, and that's not a mean feat."

"Maybe they're compensating for something," comments Joker wryly.

"Oh, please," says Shepard. "Asari come in one model only, and that's female. If they're trying to make up for not having dicks like the rest of –"

"Crazy weather, huh?" says Kaidan. "Like…phew. You'd think space would be exempt to clouds, but just shows what I know." He laughs awkwardly, and I hear Joker request clearance on the intercom.

"So, Commander," I start. "Feeling any better? You had the better part of the crew worried for you after the beacon went haywire on us."

"Besides the nightmares? Feeling just dandy, Corporal." He pauses as we near the landing platform. "So…I hear that the Captain has requested you and Williams be transferred to the _Normandy._"

"You probably heard it before I did," I say. "I can see the reasoning behind it, though." I lean in to Shepard and mock whisper. "Your crew seems handy, sure, but they're not a bunch of good-looking folk. Ashley and I bring a bit more 'cutesy' factor to the table; give the _Normandy_ a face to go with the sexy ship."

"You trying to say I'm cute, Corporal?" Ashley asks, her eyes straying in my direction. I feel my face heat up and try to brush it off.

"That's to say, I bring a bit of 'cutesy' factor to the ship. No need to put any false labels on nig nogs here. Ow!" I recoil at the swat she sends my way.

"You should've seen that coming," says Shepard. "Besides, I think we have a damn pretty crew here. Don't judge us all based off Joker and Kaidan here."

"You'll probably overestimate the crew's attractiveness if you do," says Kaidan with a snort. "Looks like we're about to land. Best get suited up, people – we're going to be meeting with the Council and God-knows who else afterwards. I get the feeling they won't listen to all these silly things like 'reason' and 'eyewitness accounts.'"

* * *

We're on the Citadel without much incident, but I can immediately tell shit's going down when we meet Udina. Ugh. I mean, I hated him in the game, but the game can't quite capture his beady little eyes the same way that real life does. Nor can it capture his hooked nose, the constant sneer on his face…I wanted to pull an Anderson from the moment his eyes locked with mine.

"I see you brought half your crew with you," says the Ambassador to Captain Anderson, his upper lip curled in disgust. _And I see you brought all the ugly attitude of ME1 and ME2 with you, and then some. Guess we're not quite even._

"Just the ground team from Eden Prime," replies Anderson, ever cordial under duress. "In case you had any questions for them that weren't addressed in the mission reports."

"Hmph." That's all he says. _Seriously?_

"I see you managed to convince the Council to give us an audience," says Anderson finally.

"They weren't happy about it," he says back, staring at Shepard. "Saren's their top agent. They aren't particularly fond of him being accused of treason."

"I don't give a flying fuck what the Council's fond of," says Jericho, taking a step towards Udina. He doesn't budge. "If they want to blind themselves to the truth, that's their decision. But I'm not going to just sit on my ass while they twiddle their thumbs. I'm going to go after Saren. And I'm going to take him down, dead or alive."

"Settle down, Commander." Udina glares daggers at Shepard, who holds the gaze unflinchingly. "You've already done more than enough to jeopardize your candidacy for the Spectres."

"And I've done double what others have had to do to prove themselves!" he protests, throwing his arms up. "You can't seriously –"

"Eden Prime was your chance, Commander Shepard," cuts off Udina in a scathing tone. "It was an opportunity for you and your team to show that you could _get the job done._ Instead, Nihlus ended up _dead._ And the beacon was –"

"You're preaching to the fucking choir!" shouts Shepard. By now, he's almost nose to nose with the Ambassador. Udina's actually several inches shorter, but to his testimony; he doesn't wilt under the much taller man's stare. "I know exactly what went wrong! Don't you _dare_ try to hold yourself above me, like being the diplomat for humanity in all of its _stupidity_ makes you a fucking hero! You know, it's pricks like you that make it so hard to get anything –"

"Shepard." Captain Anderson's hand appears on his shoulder, and the Commander stands down, closing his eyes for a few seconds. When they finally open, they're seething with anger. _Damn. Wish that had been an option in the games._ "It wasn't his fault," says the Captain at last. "We're all on the same side here. Saren's the one to blame."

"Well, I hope that you and the Council see eye to eye," says the Ambassador. "The C-Sec investigation had better turn up some proof. Otherwise, this'll have all been for nothing. Oh, and Captain…" He smirks at Shepard. "Do keep your dog on a leash. I'd hate if your recommendation turned out to be fruitless."

Ambassador Udina straightens his jacket and purses his lips. "Captain, you and I have some business to discuss. Shepard, meet us in the Citadel Tower. I'll make sure you and your compatriots have the proper clearance to get through."

They walk out the automatic doors. It's taken all of my willpower not to scream at the Ambassador – not that anyone would've blamed me, I'm sure, but it would've been tactless as hell. _I swear, Shepard had the right idea getting up in his face…I just wish it could've done something decent._

"And that's why I hate politicians," says Ash.

"Fucking A," I echo.

"Better get up to the tower," says Shepard quietly, his eyes fiery with passion. "We wouldn't want to keep the ambassador…waiting."

* * *

"I don't envy the Commander." I glance up at the larger-than-life hologram of Saren, standing regally on one of the balconies overlooking the rest of the Tower. We can't tell exactly what's being said, but it's no stretch to assume that it's 95% bullshit.

"You think Shepard's mad?" I look towards Jericho at the Lieutenant's words. He's pacing now, and if he had more than the trimmed military haircut, he'd be ripping it out right now. "He never was one for hiding his emotions."

"At least he's not throwing shit," I say. "It's got to be frustrating, knowing that you can be as honest as you'd like to, and no one will believe you anyways."

Kaidan laughs softly. "Oh, if he had something to throw, I guarantee he would. But most of the stuff he'd be throwing is too valuable…he might throw Udina in a bit though. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised." Kaidan leans against one of the rails leading up the stairs and smiles as he waits for Commander Shepard to finish up.

"What do we do if the Council doesn't listen, though?" asks Ashley. "I mean, we're going to have to hand it to them on a silver fucking platter trimmed with lace. And even then, they'll be skeptical. Probably ask for someone else to lift the top off before they'll believe it."

"We'll get it sorted," I say. "Let's just chill…this guy Saren can't be all clean. There'll be someone with dirt on him."

"You never know," says Kaidan as Shepard starts walking back towards us with the Captain and the Ambassador. "These Spectres…they're really good at keeping their noses clean. At least on official channels. For all we know, this guy is a total crook. But there might not even be evidence to support that."

"It was a mistake bringing you into that hearing, Captain," says Udina as they stroll towards us. _And it was a mistake letting you act as the galactic representative for humanity. _"You and Saren have too much personal history. The Council might think that our motives aren't entirely honest because of it."

"I know Saren," persists Anderson with an admirable determination. "He's working with the geth for one reason – to exterminate all of humanity. Every colony, every world – even Earth isn't safe, so long as he roams free."

"The extermination of humanity isn't exactly something he can keep under wraps," I say softly – apparently not softly enough. Eyes swivel towards me from all directions.

"What's that, Corporal?"

I return the Captain's glance a bit anxiously. _Whoops, didn't mean to say that so loud. Guess I need to answer for it, though._ "I mean, think about it," I say. "If the genocide of an entire species is committed, the Council _has _to intervene. Saren wouldn't jeopardize his status as a Spectre on something that has such a small probability of success without being noticed. If the geth have no reason to target human colonies specifically, they'd be traced back to…someone." I squint, deep in mock thought. "Saren's after something else. Something to do with the beacon, maybe. Something bigger than humanity's extinction." For a moment I hesitate. I might've overstepped my bounds, playing a hand such as this so quickly – what if they catch on that I know more than I've been letting on?

Udina snorts arrogantly. "Bigger than the extinction of humanity? I think we've heard enough of your idle speculation, Corporal."

"He might have a point, though," says Shepard. "What I saw on the beacon – it wasn't humans being wiped out. It was some other organic race. Being wiped out by machines, yes, but think about it – what if there's more to it?"

"What _we_ need to focus on is bringing Saren's rogue status to light," says Udina.

"He's right," admits Captain Anderson, albeit grudgingly. "If we're going to have any chance of stopping whatever Saren has planned, we're going to need to take him down first. The first step in doing this is getting his Spectre status revoked. You might want to check with Garrus Vakarian first – a turian. He's in charge of the investigation into Saren's geth involvement."

"I have a contact who could lead you to this 'Garrus,' if you would deign to _listen_." Udina glares at me – _what, did my interruption take too much of your precious time?_ "His name is Harkin. He's a C-Sec officer as well."

"And a pathetic shell of a man," mutters Anderson. "He was suspended for drinking on the job just last month. Don't waste your time on that loser."

"I see that my council is not respected here," huffs the Ambassador. "I'll be in my office. If you feel the need for advice, during which you will _not_ interrupt me, feel free to contact me there."

"Harkin's probably getting drunk in Chora's Den," says Anderson as Udina walks away. "Dingy little club. Men wasting their lives away in front of plastic women and asari…fitting, for a man of his stature. It's in the lower sections of the wards."

"Wait a second," Shepard says. "You just got Udina so pissed he left, and now you're trying to get us to take his course of action? Why would you go to all that trouble?"

"For shits and giggles?" I suggest. Anderson doesn't smile, but his lips twitch.

"Not quite," he replies. "Harkin does have Intel; I'll give him that. But he's not necessarily a reliable source of information. I'd suggest you at least talk to him. See if you can figure out where Detective Vakarian has gotten…I heard he was close to a lead."

_Wait,_ I think._ That's it – we never met up with the Detective when we first came up here. That means we're running behind schedule. We're going to have to hurry if we want to get to Garrus in time…he might be walking into a trap._

"Well then, let's hustle," says Jericho. "We're not getting anything done just sitting here and chatting. Let's take the tram."

* * *

The tram in this universe isn't just a mounted datapad, naturally. You key in your destination, then wait for the bullet train (because that's what it essentially is) to pick you up. Then it races along like a roller coaster, but with smoother turns and dives – oh, and no loops or corkscrews.

It takes about ten minutes to reach Chora's Den. Nothing is half so well lit here. It's like a street, all dim lights and neon, shadowy figures moving along the sidewalks. Occasionally a druggie or a duct rat will accost us from an alley, begging for a few credits (if we can spare it). Shepard deals with them…efficiently. By that, I mean he aims a pistol at their heads and gives them five seconds to run. Sometimes he gave longer, though – I guess that's the good inside that Chakwas mentioned. _Cough, cough._

"There it is," Ash says, wrinkling her nose. The techno music travels from there to here with ease. _Nice to know bar music hasn't changed too much._ Outside of 80s keytar and the occasional jungle drums, it sounds very much like something you'd hear at a rave. Oh, and the organs – organ music seems to blend well with techno nowadays, according to the dancing idiots in the bars.

All this time, I've been keeping my eyes open for the assassins that are supposed to follow us here and lie in wait. No signs. Granted, it's much harder to spot them with the streets all clustered like this, but you'd have thought they'd make their move soon. _At least, before we go inside of –_

Bullets flare over Shepard's head. "Down!" is all he says, shoving me and Ashley as he dives down himself. Kaidan stayed up, igniting a barrier whilst simultaneously tossing a wave of biotic energy at a shadowy figure following us. The assassin screams as he's catapulted through the air and into a building. _Oh wow, someone who didn't fall to his death because of Kaidan! Lucky days!_

Shepard already has his assault rifle out by now. I fumble with the pistol clipped to my belt and whip it out finally, trying to make sense of everything that's going on. Citizens are shouting and running all over the place, making the dark venue seem blurry. Others are cowering on the ground, and still others have their own weapons out, training them on anyone who had been firing in the first place.

_Who the fuck are we supposed to shoot?_

Shepard apparently found one assassin – or at least, one assassin shot at Shepard. In response, he brings the rifle to bear and fires rounds until it almost overheats. The figure that had shot towards him collapses limply.

"Any more?" I shout. Bullets ping off my shields and I roll behind an alleyway wall, ignoring the stench of trash. _Ugh, even in the future people are slobs._

I've been behind the alley wall for only a few moments when I feel an arm wrap around my neck and hear someone say, "If you cooperate, you won't feel a –"

In a very heroic fashion that involved no girly screaming whatsoever, I lunged to the ground as if attempting a military roll. Now, I'm not He-Man or anything, but I'm fairly strong, so when I throw all of my weight in a direction with force abetted by my not inconsiderable strength, I _go_ in that direction. The alien with his arm around me yelps, letting go halfway and skidding out into the open. I simply finish the roll. But when I come up, my momentum's still going, and I careen right into the guy – a turian, it looks like.

"You haven't got shit for game compared to Thane!" I shout in his face as I whip out my pistol and prepare to pull the trigger.

"What does that even mean?" shouts the turian back, an inflection of both fear and confusion on his face. The other assassins must have been dispatched because Shepard comes my way, face set in grim determination (as always). He swears a few times for good measure.

"Why do there always have to be survivors?" he mutters. "Just means more big choices for me. And God knows I don't need that crap."

"There'll just be complications with leaving this guy alive," I say, meeting the turian assassin's eyes – dammit, game over. I can't kill someone, especially organic, _half_ as easily if they're going to stare me down. There's just something about looking a creature in the eyes, knowing that they're just as terrified of death as you are…even if they were attempting to kill you, it's a humbling notion. "Fuck," I finally say, rolling my eyes but keeping my pistol trained.

"Well, kill him if you're going to," says Shepard.

"Yeah, Drake, this is technically your decision…" Kaidan rubs his neck.

"Actually, I'm female," says the turian, shaking all over from the adrenalin and fear of being captured.

"Godammit, why don't you just shut the fuck up?" I curse over and over again in my mind. _Great now he – she's a girl. Fuckdiddly fiddlesticks on a motherfucking boat._ The whole situation is actually pretty comical, I'll admit…but this is life and death here, I'm not in a position to be thinking about things lightly. "Am I supposed to knock her out? I don't want to hit a girl."

"You did fine at it earlier," she mutters, still frozen on the ground.

"Well, I'd ask you to join our team if you weren't such a shitty assassin," says Shepard. "Sorry we're making you wait with Drake, here. I don't think he's fully accumulated to making cold blooded decisions like this."

"It's not your fault," she replies.

_Come on,_ I think, trying to imagine the turian as something else – as someone else, someone worth punching. Even if they have to be a girl, because this shit is real. I really don't want to just gun her down while she's lying on the ground, and I hate thinking of punching a woman…_aha!_

"I'm sick and tired of your disingenuous assertions," I say, crouching and swinging my gun at the turian's temple. She barely even has time to look confused before she slumps, unconscious. I look back up at Shepard, shrugging. "Where's the C-Sec office?"

"Let's just take all her possessions save for the barest clothes on her back. She can't do shit to us if she doesn't have the resources to do so," Jericho says, shrugging and rummaging through her person. He takes off her gun first, and then her armor…ugh, I really didn't want to see a Turian in sexy underwear today. The things you deal with in the military…then he takes her wallet and some miscellaneous items, announcing them as he does so. "ID, hovercar keycard, apartment combo – hmm, hope she has a good memory. She won't be too happy otherwise…oh well, she's lucky to be alive."

"Is this really necessary?" Ash stares distastefully at the scantily clad turian as Shepard drags her into an alley, propping her up against a wall with an empty bottle of vodka clutched in her three fingered hand.

"Nah," he says, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "Funny though."

"We should really get after Harkin," I say, trying to keep my voice urgent. _If Garrus isn't dead yet, he will be soon because we're just screwing around. And I'm not going to let my best bro in these games be killed because we're easily distracted._

"Right," says Jericho. "Let's go accost a drunk."

* * *

Chora's Den is dingier, smellier, and features more loosely dressed asari than usual…at least, according to the game. A few are actually topless and taking tips for their…ahem, activities. The rest of the 'bar' is filled with people dancing – at least they have a dance floor here, unlike in the games. The bartenders are always busy with someone, and they don't look entirely sober themselves. We wouldn't have even been able to find Harkin if he hadn't still been wearing part of his C-Sec uniform and shouting about the 'injustice of human-based prejudice.'

"So, you see," he's slurring, "When Harkin talks to an alien, he has to be sure they know who's boss. Got to keep his bitches in line." Harkin hiccups once.

"You're the alien here," says the annoyed salarian he's been talking to. "You know, I've got 99 problems, but an inbred human…" The salarian pauses, blinking and taking another sip of a drink. "No, I might have a high metabolism, but I'm not drunk! Not off two drinks –" He looks a little queasy.

"Harkin?" Shepard's standing right in front of him. The drunken man swivels, glaring. "I need to know where a certain Garrus Vakarian is."

"What's it to you?" He rolls his eyes. "You and Anderson's boys – and girls – you all think, like…I don't even know. You don't even know, come to mention it. Why don't you know?"

The Commander blinks. "I have no idea what you just said, so I'll start over. I'm Commander Shepard, and I'm looking for Garrus Vakarian. And I'm asking nicely, which means you should probably give me what I want…before I start asking in a way you won't appreciate."

Harkin actually giggles. "You don't even know! You wouldn't even look at the Captain the same way, you know. You'd be all, like…whoa, man." _Wow, Harkin's much drunker than he was in the games. But that just means we're running late. Come to mention, we haven't even seen Wrex yet._

"Yeah, I know where Garrus is," says Harkin. "But before I tell you, you're going to need to listen to me. Because I, you know, like…I have things. That you need to know. That you didn't know before. I mean…one second." He straightens himself briefly. "Before I tell you where the Detective is, I need something from you."

"Granted," says Shepard. "I won't blow chunks of your head into various corners of this room, and you'll tell me where he is. Seems like a trade that's more than fair if you ask me." The Commander takes out his pistol and holds it in a not-too-aggressive stance – which was, in this case, plenty aggressive enough.

"Fine," mumbles Harkin, staring at the gun with a mixture of apprehension and distaste. "He was going to the Med-Bay. Doubt he's there anymore, but it wouldn't hurt to check." Harkin licks his lips. "You sure you don't care to hear about your friend Anderson? It's pretty…" He eyes Ashley for a moment. "…juicy."

"Usually, I'd kick your ass up and down this shithole. Just thank the heavens you're drunk." Ash cracks her knuckles. _You don't see too many women doing that._

"Every day, girlfriend." He grins eerily.

"Are there any restrictions on beating up C-Sec officers if they deserve it?" I ask. "I mean, this guy definitely deserves it."

"But he isn't worth it," says Shepard. "Come on, we need to get to the Med-Bay. Garrus might not be there for long."

* * *

The tram there is tense…at least, I'm tense. I can't stop thinking about Garrus and Tali. Both of their lives hang in the balance, in the space of several minutes. _And if one of them doesn't survive, it's my fault. It's my own damn fault._

The gunshots come seconds before Shepard opens the door. He and Alenko share a glance, and I immediately take out my pistol.

"Shit's about to get real," I say softly.

As soon as the door slides open we flood through, surveying the situation. Doctor Michel is slumped and limp, a bloody hole in her stomach, hidden behind the counter as her eyes glaze over. Garrus is behind the reception counter too, slowly massaging Medigel into the wound.

"She'll make it," he murmurs. "I shouldn't have been so reckless…but I had to act. Fist's thugs would've killed her to shut her up."

I glance around. "Wait…did you kill them already? All of them?"

"They weren't very intelligent…it took several seconds for the smartest to even get behind cover." Garrus doesn't stand, but he finally looks towards Shepard. "Detective Garrus Vakarian, at your service. And you'll be Commander Shepard…I've heard quite a bit about you, including that we share the same interests."

"In a sense, yes." Jericho crouches beside Garrus and looks at the doctor. "Any idea why they came after her in the first place?"

"You'll have to ask her yourself," he says, looking back. She's breathing shallow breaths, but the wound is slowly healing…_that was way too close._ "Michel…Michel, how are you doing?"

"Better," she moans. "They…they were here to keep me quiet. About the quarian…about everything." Doctor Michel gasps softly. "This is a tad ironic, admittedly…she came here seeking my services, and now I'm being treated for the same shot…"

"I hate to pressure you," says Shepard, his voice unusually gentle. "But we _have_ to figure out what's happening." He eyes Garrus. "I heard you had a lead on Saren's activities, maybe something that could help us get his Spectre status revoked. I'm guessing that this is your lead?"

"I'd hate to think of Michel as something so dismissive, but yeah. She's my lead on the case…if only I'd had more time to investigate." Garrus glances at her wound. "It's healing rapidly. Good. Now, Michel…tell us about the quarian."

"She…she knew something about the geth." Doctor Michel sighs. "She came here with a gunshot wound, saying she would trade information relevant to the geth to the Shadow Broker in exchange for safety. She came to Fist to set up an appointment."

"But Fist isn't an agent of the Shadow Broker any more," Garrus clicks his mandibles excitedly. "It makes sense now. Fist is working for Saren, so the quarian…" He leaps to his feet. "Dammit. The quarian's hosed if we don't move, and we need to move _now_ if she has any chance. First we need to go to Fist. There's a krogan that's being held down in C-Sec, not imprisoned…he could prove useful."

"No time," says Shepard. "Actually, I have an idea. I'll head down to talk to the krogan…Kaidan, I'd appreciate if you came with me. Might need some help with persuasion. Ash, I'd recommend you alert the Ambassador of all the shit about to go down. Drake, Garrus – you'll be in charge of scouting Chora's Den before we assault Fist's back room. We'll be keeping track with comlinks, so everyone…set channel to 142-228-920. Maintain silence for as long as possible, but if necessary to report, don't hesitate. We'll all rendezvous for the assault in 30 minutes." I assumed he meant galactic standard minutes, which is right about the same as 1500 seconds…or 25 human minutes.

Things were about to get _really_ intense.

"Okay," says Shepard. "Let's fuck shit up."


	4. Chapter 3: Behold the Sea of Ills So

_CHAPTER NOTES: Phew, it's been a while. I would've put this out sooner, but I've been having a lot of trouble with school recently, so this has admittedly taken a bit of a backseat. But hey – here it is. And I'll try to get out Chapter 4 sooner than usual just because I can._

_Oh, and I finished two 35 hour playthroughs of ME2 in the past week. So…that's taken up a ton of time._

_Anyways – last chapter, we met Garrus, a badass C-Sec Detective that thinks it's about time Saren was taken off his high horse. What a character! We also learned that Tali is in danger (oh noes!) and the team splits up to better deal with the situation. There's a lot that'll happen this chapter – including changes that didn't exactly take place in the first ME. We delve deeper into the various characters a bit, there's a bunch of action, some cool entrances, morality dilemmas, and just general lollygaggery. Will they save Tali? In short – guess you'll have to read on! Because shit's going down._

_Thanks for the reviews all! I'm trying to keep all of your comments in mind when writing this. Also, anyone who knows the songs from the titles of my chapters (technically the prologue isn't a song, and the first is a book, durp) gets mad cookies. Toodles!_

_PS: MAJOR plot bunnies have been going off in my head…just so you know, this might start out pretty similar to ME1, but it'll be a very different journey once shit REALLY starts to go down. ;)_

* * *

Chapter 3: Behold the Sea of Ills So Vast

Crashing cymbals, three-four beat. Overdriven electric string instrument being played with a bow…a viola maybe? Scratching like nails on a chalkboard against the strings, but the sound blends well with the rhythmic bass.

Take a sip.

Blue, purple, red, orange, white, green, repeat. Lights are flashing in intermittent colors from the futuristic equivalent of a disco ball, which happens to simply be a set of lights mechanically operated. Set in a predetermined pattern, repeats every…twenty seconds or so, not a bad interval.

Take a sip.

Fist's guards are predominantly human. Appears to be a krogan bouncer. Could be the largest threat – scratch that, definitely will be, considering gear. Roughly eight guards and bouncers in sight, likely not many hidden away – going by the game's standards. Could be more than usual just because of that.

Take a sip.

Still waiting for the four others to join us – puts us at a six man (and woman) squad. Take out the krogan first; preferably a preemptive strike with sniper round to the head. Dead before others realize what's going on. Take up shelter behind the bar and take out the rest of the guards before Shepard arrives. Advance, apprehend Fist, get intelligence on the quarian. Cut and clean. _Oh God, I feel like Jason Bourne!_

Take a sip.

"I swear, you drink slower than anyone I've ever seen."

I take another sip, glancing over to Garrus subtly. The whole situation doesn't look too difficult…but killing organics isn't going to be fun for me. Geth are one thing – even though they have artificial intelligence, and some of them (like Legion) are very sympathetic characters, I knew ahead of time that they were heretics. And…well, it's scary. Just the thought of having another person's blood on my hands makes me queasy.

"I can't help it, Garrus." I wipe my mouth with one sleeve, feeling my light body armor shift slightly underneath. "I know a lot of people who are nervous drinkers, but I can barely force it down in these circumstances. I feel like I've got to be at my best for what's coming next."

"Fair enough," he says, drinking some from his own glass. It can't be the same liquid I've been drinking…turians and humans have biology that's _way_ too different for that to work. Dextro-amino acid based organisms tend to react poorly to foods they shouldn't consume…and if I took a sip of his drink, it'd probably kill me too.

"Your eyes are always moving," Garrus notes. "Scouting the place out?"

"Yeah," I say. "Can't be too careful. Nothing seems to go according to plan, but that doesn't mean I enjoy improvising. I've been trying to get used to this hyper-analytical thought process that never seems to pan out when I'm actually shooting…ah, well. Work with what you've got, I guess."

"Don't get too defensive," says the turian. "I've been checking it all out too. We've got to be ready when…what's the human expression? Shit hits the fan?"

I laugh, glancing at the krogan bouncer. He glares in my direction, hefting his shotgun in a warning gesture. "At least the locals are friendly," I tell Garrus.

"Krogan are rarely _friendly,_ persay," he says, following my gaze. "I'd consider you fortunate to have a working relationship with one without any conflict." He finishes his drink and eyes the glass it was in warily. I glance at my own – barely half gone.

"That's a little racist," I say back.

"No, it's a biological _fact._" Garrus stretches his arms out and smiles – at least, it appears to be a smile. The mandibles are throwing me off more in real life than it did in the game, and the dim lighting doesn't help. "Krogan have more hormones encouraging aggression and sexual ferocity than they do anything else…no doubt due to their…quads." Garrus snorts. "And don't take my knowledge of Krogan biology to mean anything outside of knowing the enemy. I'm no scientist."

"Okay, but – one sec." I pause, listening to the static announcing the Commander's voice. Garrus does the same.

"_Shepard here. We've got Urdnot Wrex with us and we should be there in five minutes flat if all goes according to plan."_

"Sounds good," I say softly. "We'll soften the place up a bit if they start getting hostile. But if they don't, expect us to be ready when you arrive."

"Is this a secure channel?" Garrus asks, eying the guards. A couple are shifting, clearly about to get ready for something. I shrug.

"No. Doubt they're listening in though. It's more likely that our C-Sec resident scumbag Harkin decided that he'd tattle on us…once he realized Wrex was being moved, I mean."

"Doesn't matter either way," says Garrus. I notice very subtle movement and see the barrel of his pistol jutting out, though it's barely visible in the shadows…I wouldn't have even noticed if I wasn't paying super close attention. "We need to get the jump. I'll take the krogan and the human to his left, and then I'll get behind cover. You take the two humans at the entrance. Move."

That must be why I always put him in the second squad in the suicide mission – commanding presence, analytical mind, and a total badass. I yawn and stretch, activating my shields quietly, then head towards the entrance – exit? It works either way.

"We're sorry to inform you that Chora's Den will be closing ahead of time," announces the krogan bouncer, shouting to be heard. "We're closing," he yells when only about half move. "Hey!" He fires his shotgun in the air. "You're going to fucking move, or you'll be shot where you're sitting! Now!"

That gets their attention. As I'm running towards the exit with the horde of other people, hand on my pistol's hilt, I notice Garrus walk right by the krogan – and then he brings up the pistol, right in his face. The bouncer doesn't have hardly any time to flinch before rounds are fired in rapid succession, five or six at least, shredding his face into something utterly unrecognizable. By the time the human nearby recovers from shock, he can barely even recoil when Garrus shoots him as well – two in the face, and as he's falling over, another couple in the head for good measure. Then Garrus is behind a bench seat with a table thrown in front him, rounds bombarding where he had been before.

As soon as I see him juke into cover my pistol is out and up too, squeezing the trigger twice at a human guard just a few feet away. The effect is disgusting. The first round rips through his forehead, launching brains against the back wall, and the next literally tears through his nose, leaving a gaping hole. Before my stomach can process this and flip accordingly, I've already swiveled to the other guard. His hand goes to his weapon, but mine's been out. He never had a chance. His mouth widens as he begins to scream but I can't hesitate – one in the head, one in the neck as he slumps. I feel several shots hit my shields from behind as I duck outside of Chora's Den, waiting for them to recharge. I take my sniper rifle off my back and bring it to bear.

_Holy shit. I just killed someone from point blank. That was way more graphic than anything I've seen in any movie, any game…shit. I just killed another human being. What the fuck am I getting into?_

I peek back around the corner with my sniper rifle. Several shots strike my shields, but I manage to hit someone in the shoulder. "Only four left," I mutter. "Why are there so many bullets? Probably more than we could see at first behind the doors…" I switch to my pistol. It'll probably be way more useful in close quarters like this.

I quickly tap my com, remembering Shepard. "Hey Jericho? We're taking some fire…trying to clean things up a bit before you get here. The only course of action we could take was immediate, so…yeah, sorry if we fucked shit up."

"_Wait, what? Drake, what the fuck are you talking about?"_

"They locked down at Chora's Den. They're expecting you…or us." I see another guard round the corner and I fire rapidly, one shot breaking through his shields to hit his kneecap. As it buckles inwardly, I get off two more shots, one missing, but the other hitting him in the chest. He collapses in a growing pool of blood and stops moving. "Sorry, can't talk much more – kind of busy. As you can hear, I'm sure."

"_Fuck. Fucking A. We'll be there in a couple more minutes, just hold them off. Oh – and try not to die."_ I fire at another guard several times, the first few glancing off his shields, but the next several all drilling him in the chest. _"Or I'll kick your ass."_

"When I'm dead?" I hide again to let my shields recharge.

"_When I say I'll kick your cold, dead ass, I mean it. Shepard out."_

I look around the corner – pretty much clear on my side, but Garrus seems pinned down. I sprint to the bar, firing wildly at the people near his position. This does nothing more than draw their attention, which I admittedly wanted, although one drops his gun and starts yelling curse words at me. As I jump over the bar shots ping off my shields, and just before I get to cover, I feel burning at the back of my head.

_I just got shot in the back of the head. What the shit. I can't die yet…I can't._

Everything fades to black, and I swear one last time.

* * *

"Get up, Drake. Come on. It's only a graze, get up _now._"

I blink, noticing Garrus standing over me. Everything is strangely quiet in the bar now, and I feel a surge of panic run through me.

"The fuck," I say. "How long was I out? What's a graze?"

"The bullet wasn't fully stopped by your shields and grazed your head. A couple inches lower and I'd be talking to a corpse. Thankfully, you only passed out, probably due to the shock of the blow if anything. You weren't out for more than a minute or so." Garrus grabs me by the arm and helps me up. "That was a ballsy move you pulled. It let me take out the rest of the idiots protecting Fist."

"Thanks…I think?" I stand up all the way and glance at all of the bodies. The lights are still flashing overhead, casting anxious shadows over the establishment. Blood's much darker here than it was in the movies…much messier, too. Everything is so terrifyingly realistic. Scratch that, everything is flat-out real. I swallow to stop from feeling any more sick than I already am and take a couple steps towards Fist's hidey-hole. "We need to move. There can't be much time now."

"Definitely," he says. He doesn't put away his weapons, but he starts walking towards the door with long strides. "You've got a bit of Medigel on the wound. Probably best not to touch it to avoid infection…it's just a minor wound, though."

I glance upwards as if I could see the graze. As we open the doors, we notice some shaking people with weapons – the workers. Great…these guys. "W-wait! Freeze!" says one of them, but Garrus ignores him. With a swift motion Garrus grabs the worker's pistol, though he gets a single inaccurate shot off before Garrus is done. It hits Garrus's shields and ricochets off harmlessly. The turian throws the gun to the ground and brings his assault rifle up, leveled at the workers sweaty forehead.

"Leave before things get messy," he says, glaring at Fist's employees with steely confidence. He glances back and forth between them all, meeting their eyes individually. "You'll thank me later. You aren't soldiers; you aren't even well armed for the Maker's sake. Fist can't possibly pay you enough to take this…" Garrus pauses in consideration. "…risk."

"I – I –" One of the workers in the back wipes his forehead. "I need this job. I can't just step aside and let you take Fist."

"Find another job," I say. "By risk, Garrus means he'll mop the floors with your entrails. He just has a nicer way of saying it."

"Shit," says the worker with the rifle to his forehead. "Shit, shit, _shit_. Just go. We won't get in your way."

"Would you have really killed them?" I ask Garrus as the three terrified men run away, out of Chora's Den and into the streets of the hostile ward. These wards aren't nearly as sophisticated as they were in the game…crime literally reigns. It's just pretty clean due to the keepers. There are some high-brow wards, I'm sure, but the one we're in now can't be considered among that population.

I stare at the door the workers had been guarding – if you could really call it that. Fist's 'office' is just behind that thick metal door, and we're confronting him without Shepard…_ooh, chills. So many changes._

"Absolutely," he answers me, jerking me into reality once more. "It was difficult to even let them go in the first place. If they're going to associate themselves with a scum of the Verse like Fist, they deserve to be punished." He holds his assault rifle more warily, at about shoulder level, keeping his breathing notably level.

"A job is a job," I say softly. _Was that a Firefly reference he made just then? Nah, no way in hell. Well, I'll ask him if we make it out of this alive. _"Even with all the advancements in this galactic day and age, there's no way we can get everyone the perfect job."

"C-Sec has openings," he argues as we hesitate before Fist's thick metal door. Much different than in the game…like always. I touch my omnitool and establish a link with the console outside the door. "They sure as hell aren't perfect, but there is _no _excuse for what's happening here, especially working for this man…unless there are dire circumstances. Undercover cops and such." His eyes flicker away. _Guess Jenna got her work done or something. Or she's dead…ugh. This isn't important,_ I convince myself, focused back on my work.

"Done," I whisper, and the door clicks. I radio Shepard. "Apprehending Fist now. Will take precautions. Let's maintain radio silence for a minute; we'd like to remain in the realm of the living."

"_We're about there. Just…do whatever. And don't you fucking die."_

Garrus nods towards me. He touches something on the console so the door slides open and I sprint, noticing the turrets on either side of Fist. I quickly take a grenade from my belt and throw it at Fist – wait a split second – and I click the detonator right as I dive into cover. There are a few seconds of turret fire, along with Garrus returning with his assault rifle, and I peek around. The turrets stop, and Fist stands, his arms raised.

"Wait!" He's limping, and his armor is dented…damn. It's not just dented, there's a practical crater in his chest. I must've got a direct hit, and since he couldn't get his shields up in time…he's lucky to be alive. That's just plain ugly. "Please…just…" He grunts. "Just stop shooting. Tell me what you want…I can get it. Is it money? I have significant funds for an agent of my stature –"

"Just because you work for Saren doesn't mean you deserve respect for your so-called 'stature.' If anything, because we're talking about Saren, it means you deserve less." Garrus takes a step towards him and hefts the rifle with one hand. "Sit back down. Now."

"We're looking for a quarian," I say, my pistol leveled at his forehead. He opens his mouth and I jerk the pistol briefly before he can say anything. "Shut the fuck up; you know exactly who I'm talking about. Give me a name. Give me a location. Give me a time. And then maybe we won't have to kill you to make our point."

"Like you'd have a chance at killing me," he says, grinning anxiously. He rolls his eyes. "You wouldn't make it out of here alive. I'm too fucking important." Fist straightens his collar before speaking again. "She thinks she's going to meet with the Shadow Broker. Dumbass bitch. She'll have a surprise waiting for her when she gets there though…" He giggles a bit.

Garrus lowers his assault rifle, drawing Fist's attention. But he immediately brings up his own fist, striking the human crime lord in the jaw with enough force to make him stumble and fall backwards. Garrus pounces, putting his clawed foot on the man's throat and watching him struggle.

"Where is she?" Garrus says softly. He twists it slightly and one of the claws digs in, Fist's blood clinging to its tip. "If you think I won't kill you, think again. I have no time for this _shit._ Tell me."

_He's the motherfucking Batman, but he feels that he has the right to kill people. Oh HELL yes._

"Her name's Tali," Fist says as Shepard walks in behind us. I meet his eyes and he nods, smiling tightly at how Garrus is handling the situation. Fist doesn't even notice the Commander – probably because he has turian talons digging into his throat. "She's in an alley, maybe a couple minutes walk away. It's the one behind Oriarch – you know, that fancy restaurant with the salarians running it. But…the meeting was scheduled to happen in a couple of minutes." Fist's words are becoming more strained as he struggles to get oxygen. "You might still be able to make it in time…to see her body get dragged off, that is…"

"Dammit," says Garrus, lifting his claw.

"We'll have time to deal with this idiot later," I say, already starting towards the door. "This is a chance we can't miss…there are lives at stake." _Crap. Tali might die because I threw our arrival off by a wee bit, and there might not be anything I can do to stop it._

"Faster to deal with him now," says a deep voice from behind Shepard. And then – _holy shit, it's Wrex. _The behemoth krogan hefts a shotgun with one hand towards Fist, who scrabbles backwards on his elbows and feet, mouth open in a silent scream. It's useless. One squeeze of the trigger and the shells tear through Fist's face and upper body, leaving a mangled mess behind. I glance away, but not before the image burns itself into my mind. Blood on the wall…Fist's head barely hanging onto the neck, at a disjointed angle with the esophagus visible…this has been an interesting couple of days. Talk about seeing too much shit to stay comfortably sane.

_Need tips on making an entrance? Let Urdnot Wrex show you how it's done._

"What the…?" Kaidan doesn't even finish; he just stares in abject horror at Fist's body. "You can't just kill him like that! He was unarmed!"

"Leaving a job unfinished isn't in my nature." Wrex doesn't lower the shotgun, but cocks it again with one hand. _Like the motha effing Terminator. _"We need to move."

I hear something from behind me, probably agreement of some sort, but I've already taken off. I dimly notice that Ash hasn't come yet…probably for the best. I'd hate to endanger any more lives with my mere presence. As I round a corner I see a very much surprised mercenary, limping, gun not even raised – _crap, we've still got to fight our way out of here._ I don't even stop running. I simply carry my momentum into him, lowering my shoulder and driving him into a wall – ooh; that was a nasty crack. He slumps to the ground. He's…well, I mean, he's _probably_ not dead. I don't have time to check.

_Wait a second. He was limping. That means that Shepard has probably already been through here._

Yep, everyone in the next room is dead or dying…and there are more people than were there before, at least. The sheer amount of bodies is a bit disturbing. Limbs spread akimbo on the ground or blown off entirely, faces blank, eye sockets hollow and lifeless…a few of the people are still twitching, bleeding out. I avoid eye contact. Tali's life is hanging in the balance. I can't be distracted by guilt, not now. I keep sprinting, through the exit and into the street, not slowing as I come into a crowd of people – _fuck, where's Oriarch?_

* * *

I keep running despite not knowing exactly where to, pulling out my omnitool and bringing up a schematic of the Wards. I'm no genius – not to say that I'm stupid or anything, but an omnitool is pretty complex. Even so, I've gotten the hang of an omnitool pretty damn quick. I swipe across the interface and zoom in on my triangulated position as I run, occasionally bumping or grazing an alien. I'm staring at what's the equivalent of a GPS, except on a galactic scale, with this particular module specific to the Citadel and the specific ward we're in.

I glance up as it says I'm nearing the destination and pick out white letters on a sign that looks fairly new – Oriarch. Nice seeming restaurant…maybe we'll go there sometime, when we're not trying to save the life of a quarian that doesn't know she holds the key to saving the entire universe.

* * *

I slow down as I approach the alley, ignoring the stares I get from a few batarians in suits. One of them mutters something about "obnoxious humans" as he enters the Oriarch, but besides that they leave me alone. This is it…I feel the air grow seemingly more tense as I get to the alley, inching my way and staying close to the walls. Everything is so dark that I can barely see…for all I know, I'm five feet from the turian that's going to meet Tali. I bring out my sniper rifle and roll a dial. Night vision increases to the point where I can see figures…a turian smoking something that looks similar to a cigarette, but smells more like beef jerky that was set on fire or something…and a couple salarians, one just getting up, the other leaning against a wall and holding his (her?) side.

The alley I'm in seems stretched to an unnatural extent, the walls higher than would be suggested by the outside of the Citadel. The place has a vibe of darkness, and moisture hangs in the air. It's away from the bright neon of the wards area I'd been in before, but it still has a sense of dirtiness, of blatant disregard for hygiene. This really was a scary part of the wards…even if they had a cool-looking restaurant. I glance down at a hole in the floor and notice that there's some plumbing showing. It must've been recent, considering how steadfast and OCD the keepers seem to be. The pipes underneath are maintained, though water clings to them in condensed droplets. That's got to be where the humidity is coming from, but that doesn't explain the rest of the eeriness. Maybe it's the dirt. In the alley, unmaintained by keepers for a day or so, there's dirt. Even in the Citadel…it seems like dirt finds its way everywhere. It follows every species to every world, clinging to clothing like a bad scent…and speaking of bad scents…

I ease my way forward as I hear them talking, careful not to say anything. Tali's nowhere to be found. But something feels wrong. Something about the smell in the air…it's like wet copper, stale and unpleasant. My stomach drops but I keep my eye pressed to the scope.

"It's a bit of a shame, really," breathes the turian, smoke floating out of his lungs and upwards. He taps a bit of the ash from the cigarette and closes his eyes, clicking his mandibles in excitement. "She was a cutie. Didn't deserve to go out in such a toneless, boring way…but so is life."

"The bitch scuffed my armor with that damn proximity mine," grumbles one of the salarians. "Deserved all she got, if you ask me. And more. I'll slice up the body if you need it disposed of. I think she broke one of my ribs."

The turian laughs and takes another drag, inhaling, inhaling – then exhaling a few smoke-rings with perfect shape. "You damn well better stay away from her. Saren wouldn't know it's her if she's all sliced and such. Though the data should be enough to sate his appetite for now." He throws the cigarette away and smiles eerily at the ground. I can't see what he's smiling at, but I have the worst in mind.

His next words confirm my suspicions. "Check her omnitool for the data. Erase it if it's there. If not…well, it had damn well better be there. In the cache."

_Fuck. No. This didn't happen in the game, oh God, this can't be happening, please…this can't be what it looks like._

"Deleted it already," said one of the salarian henchmen. "Might as well report back to Saren, then."

I raise the sniper rifle with cold, clammy hands, trying to ignore the shock I feel at everything I just saw. _God. I can't move. What the fuck? She can't…no…there's no way…she's got to be alive, this isn't what it looks like…_The turian raises a pistol with one three fingered hand and stares at it with a mixture of amusement and determination.

"Well, let's finish up here," he says. The turian lowers the pistol to his feet. "Drop another couple bullets to make sure she's –"

The words are cut off as I shake off my horror and numbness, squeezing the trigger twice. At least one of the shots hit him in the head, if not both, though it's tough to tell from where I am…it's only fifty feet away, max, but the motion was so swift it's tough to tell how many times my shots landed. It's silenced, but the salarians notice and turn – in the opposite direction. They fire wildly as I take out my pistol quietly and inch towards them.

The two are incapacitated before I even get a shot off. Assault rifle rounds rapidly tear through one, and the other is frozen in a luminescent blue field. I lower the sniper rifle and blink, letting my vision adjust. Wrex comes up to the frozen salarian, footsteps lumbering as he raises his shotgun.

_Game over._

Kaidan lets go of the stasis field with a wince and Wrex's face is cast into darkness as he pulls the trigger. The salarian slumps. I don't bring up my light immediately…I have no urge to see what's left of the alien yet, and I think I'll avert my eyes even if someone else shines a light.

I feel a tear trickle out of my eye and fight it, wiping it away before Shepard's light comes on. There she is…Tali'Zorah nar Rayya is laying there on her back with two bloody holes in her torso, one in her stomach, and the other in her chest. You can't even see her expression behind the mask…_fuck. Why wasn't I faster? Why couldn't I save her?_

"It's not your fault," says Kaidan, almost as if he knew what I was thinking. "You got here as fast as you could…I swear, when you took off, the rest of us barely knew what to do. You did what you could, Drake."

"It's not over," says Shepard from at her side, fidgeting at his belt with his eyes closed.

"I know," says Kaidan, glancing over at him purposefully. "We can still stop Saren and the geth. It doesn't change the fact that death is so…disgusting. So completely –"

"She's not fucking dead," reemphasizes Shepard, and I feel my heart skip a beat. He takes what he'd been searching for on his belt and starts massaging it into the wounds, a delicateness unusual for him in his posture. Oh, so he was searching for Medigel! Right! "She's just unconscious…I think she went into shock. People always seem to forget that quarian bodysuits aren't just for show. They make excellent armor, too. These are both only a little deep…and they don't look like they tore through anything important. So thank whatever god you believe in that whatever guilt you felt won't be as bad anymore."

"Oh Jesus," I say, rubbing my sweaty hands on my pants. _Crisis averted!_ "So she'll be fine, you think?"

"Not if we stand here like a bunch of fucking twats, she won't be." Shepard stands, gently holding her in his arms. "Let's take the tram. We need to get her to a Med-Bay, stat. She's already lost a lot of blood, and I can't be sure none of the bullets pierced any of her organs…I'm no quarian expert."

I blink again, smiling to myself. Here I was, thinking she was dead, when really…_wow._

_Crisis averted indeed._

* * *

I sit at Tali's bedside in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs – yep, even in the future, those chairs decidedly suck. Shepard is close by in a chair as well, except that he's using a wheelchair Doctor Michel kindly provided for him as 'thanks' for teaming up with the turian who saved her life. Jericho Shepard has weirdass taste in rewards…as he does little circles in the thing, I can't help thinking he doesn't really care what others think. And when you're the world's biggest badass, why would you want to?

I half expected him to pull a Malcolm Reynolds and say "she's dead," but he was thankfully too busy with the wheelchair to screw with me like that. Tali was stable but still unconscious at the moment. The only thing that really worried me was that she might get infected…and according to the doctor, since Tali had stabilized, that was the only thing worrying her as well. I rubbed my eyes and thought about the events days.

_I've killed people._ The very thought, the memories…they turned my stomach over. _And yet, I'm going to be doing a lot more of that if I'm going to stay with Shepard and his crew…doesn't mean I have to enjoy it, though. It's like Thane said…an assassin doesn't choose to kill, the person using the assassin did. The assassin is simply a weapon. Can't I just be the weapon, here? Guns don't have the 'luxury' of feeling guilty._ For a brief few moments I pondered what I'd said earlier when I had been attacked by the assassin. Hopefully, none of the others had heard me mention Thane…and if any of them had, well, hopefully they didn't know what the hell I was talking about.

_I seem to be doing a lot of hoping nowadays,_ I say to myself, stretching out as Shepard wheels his chair closer to me. The Commander leans back so that the wheelchair is balanced barely, the wheels underneath wagging a bit as he fights to maintain his composure.

"You don't strike me as the typical soldier type," I say, fighting back a grin as I think about tipping him over. Before I can, the Commander swings the wheels back to the ground with a thud.

"And you don't seem like the typical beat-the-crap-out-of-an-unarmed-businessman type," he says back, probably referring to Fist. "Also, that was redundant."

"That was Garrus, not me," I say. "Though I would've liked to get a couple punches in after what happened to Tali here." I stare at the quarian for a moment longer. "Oh…and what was redundant?"

"Typical soldier type," Shepard says, rolling back on the wheels once again, gritting his teeth in concentration. "It's like saying 'my beef steak is made out of beef.' Or something along those lines." Shepard glances at me again, a mock serious look on his face. "Don't judge me. Your eyes are judging me."

"Scratch that," I say. "You aren't the typical human being. You're like something out of science fiction." _Oh, how I wish he would get that joke. Maybe someday…_ "Speaking of science fiction, there's an old show I really need to show you. It's super old, like, early 21st century old…but you'd probably dig it."

Shepard keeps the balance. Damn, he's been going for almost a minute now. "You've got some sort of attention deficit disorder, I swear. One second we'll be talking about soldiers, then beef, then science fiction from before starship travel…you need something to take care of that, Drake." He finally loses his balance and falls backwards out of the chair, arms flailing as he hits the hospital floor.

I burst out laughing. "The beef was _your _idea, not mine. And I'm not the one trying to perform fucking wheelchair acrobatics…and failing spectacularly."

"At least it was spectacular." Shepard rubs his head and rights the wheelchair before climbing back into it. His gaze goes back to Tali. She hasn't woken up since we brought her here…hell, she hasn't even really moved. It's a tad unnerving.

"I never would have forgiven myself if she died," I say softly, fingers interlocking underneath my chin. "I mean, shit man. What could she have had that's worth killing over?"

"Proof that Saren's allied himself with the geth," Shepard responded softly. "I'd say that's worth the life of one quarian."

"I doubt she'd agree with you if she were awake right now." I stare at her three fingered hand with a mixture of fascination and contemplation. _There's no shitstorm coming. I could swear we're dealing with a hurricane. _"But I see where you're coming from."

"It's not a matter of personal opinion," says Shepard, his eyes still focused on Tali's fragile form. "It's just the truth. Saren would kill a hundred quarians just like her if it meant preserving his name in the eyes of this goddamn Council." Shepard closes his eyes finally and I can see him gritting his teeth, even though he's being quiet about it.

"Fuck Saren," I say simply. "Now that we've got Tali and her –"

_Wait. That turian said…oh shit._

"What?" Shepard hasn't opened his eyes yet. I'm not sure if I want to break the bad news to him, but I cave in against my better judgment.

"The data," I whisper. "Shit. The evidence against Saren…before I took out the turian, he said something about having deleted the data Saren was looking for already. So…" I'm in disbelief. _How could I have forgotten about the data? How the hell is Shepard going to get Spectre status now? I swear, I'm screwing this whole universe up just by being here._ "The dumbass Council's never going to believe you without legitimate proof. I mean, they ignored an eyewitness once already, and quarians aren't exactly favored by the Citadel…or anyone, for that matter…fucking A."

Shepard doesn't even say anything for a minute. He just sits there in the wheelchair, licking his lips, maybe trying to decide what he _can _say after hearing this. Finally, he gets up and just walks out of the hospital, leaving me alone with Tali.

Hmm…what to do. I play Minesweeper on my omnitool for about thirty minutes (yes, it still exists!), swearing every time I hit a mine. It doesn't take long to get bored of that too, so I turn off the tool and stare at the various futuristic medical apparatuses attached to Tali…everything from a standard IV to some strange wiring that seems to be measuring her blood ratios.

I slowly glance at Tali herself. So close…I mean, if I'd been any later, the turian might've finished her off. He almost did even when I was right there, just because I was so terrified of what had been happening. I was so convinced that she was dead that nothing had seemed to matter anymore. Either way, I can't screw anything else up, because if I do, I don't know what might happen…we were lucky saving Tali, but we're still missing the data. It's a silly idea, but maybe, just maybe…the data wasn't deleted all the way. There might still be something to help us out.

Well, at least Tali didn't die. If she had, we'd be completely fucked. Now, we're just slightly fucked…you know, that semi awkward 3rd base hand-job status. Or something.

_Shepard, hate to say it, but you might be right about that ADD._

I lean back in the chair and close my eyes, enjoying the darkness for a moment…and then a bit longer…until I lapse completely into dream.

* * *

"_It's been twelve years. We need to let him go…"_

My father's voice travels over my ears like something fluid, dripping down my neck so that I shiver. I can see, even though…my eyes aren't open. They're squeezed shut, I know it. So why can I see? Granted, everything's really blurry, and it keeps shifting, like I'm wearing beer goggles or something…but that doesn't explain everything.

"_No, there's still a chance…please, just a little longer."_

"_He wouldn't want this, Shauna. We both know it. We need to do this…for him."_

I can't move. I'm trapped underneath a harness…no, nothing's strapping me down. Why can't I move? I try to make some sort of noise, anything to get them to notice…

"_You're…you're right." _My mother's voice sounds muddled, like she's trying to speak underwater. My eyes feel hot and wet, but I can't move, I can't cry, I can't do…anything…why? What the hell is this?

"_We'll need to fill out the paperwork, but we can have this done in a reasonable time." _A pause, then words marked by insincerity. _"I'm sorry for your loss. Just know that we're here for you, in the case of any future medical emergencies."_

I don't even know who that is. All this familiarity, interrupted by something completely foreign, and I still can't fucking move…but I see my parents. For the first time in over a year, I see my parents…I hear their voices…if this is a dream, just let me stay a little longer.

"_It'll be alright."_

The end of my father's voice trails out in my head, fading and transforming into a hollow ringing. Everything swirls like chocolate being stirred into a cake mix, black tingeing the corners of my vision and finally enveloping it entirely.

It'll be alright…

* * *

"Bad dreams?"

I force my eyes open and glance towards the voice, eyes stinging from the sudden light. "Oh, hey Ash." I notice just how sweaty I am, and…ugh. "Nah, just…it's hot in here is all. It's been a strange day."

"Tell me about it," she says, not bothering to sit down. Ash smirks a bit. "At least bucket-head over there survived. I'd feel pretty shit if she'd died just because I wasn't there to do the job right."

"We're big damn heroes," I say, referencing _Firefly_ carelessly. "You might be able to join our ranks someday, but be still till then, grasshopper."

"Whatever, sensei." Ash sighs. "I don't envy Shepard right now. I have to tell him to go up to talk to the Council about what we found…rather, what we didn't find, and try to convince them we're right. It's a wash. We're never going to get anywhere without absolute proof. I'm about to head up there anyway…you going to stay here, or do you want to see a few idiots in robes tell off the Commander?"

"I'll pass." I yawn, blinking and stretching. "Tell me how it goes, though. I'm sure you'll have…fun."

She hesitates, and for a second I feel bad for refusing her offer. Then she grins. "The Commander got completely wasted before going before the Council, by the way. It might be tough to find him, let alone convince him to talk. At least we're not the only ones pissed. The Council has a stick up their collective ass."

As Ash leaves, I glance back at Tali. It looks like her suit's been stitched up, and there are so many tubes running into her I wouldn't be surprised if she's swimming in antibiotics and anti-contaminants. As I watch, she slowly rolls her head, staring at…well; I can't be sure because of the helmet. But it's either me or one of her IVs.

For a moment, she just stares. I do the same, a wry smile on my face.

"I'm not dead? I'm…I'm not dead," she says matter-of-factly. _That accent is fucking legit._

"Let me guess…now you'll be taking Master of the Obvious for four thousand?" I laugh softly. "Nah, you're not dead. Got you out of there in the nick of time, and Michel…bless her heart, since she was shot herself, she patched you right up."

I don't think the quarian got my Jeopardy joke – not surprising, considering she's both another species and doped up on God-knows-what. She twitches her head slightly. "What? Ugh…my chest is killing me." She moves a bit more. "No worries, though. Wait, did you say the doctor was shot?"

"Yeah," I say quietly. "She's fine, though. It's a long story…one you probably shouldn't be high off your ass while hearing."

"Fair enough, I suppose." Tali sighs. "I'm such an idiot. I never should have trusted Fist like I did…he lied to me."

"Shit happens," I say simply. I glance at her omnitool, still turned off at the moment. It's a little surprising the turian didn't just take it. Then again, he might've if I hadn't shown up when I did. It's not worth worrying over. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine," she says simply. "It's…not that bad. I'm a little embarrassed for passing out like I did. Even more so for being naïve and trusting that bosh'tet." She lays there for another minute and I say nothing, waiting for her to speak again. "You know my name," she says finally. "How?"

"We took care of Fist, and he was kind enough to provide your name for us," I say. "Of course, our krogan friend took that as meaning it was okay to blow Fist's head off. Needless to say, Fist got worse than you did…it looked like his face had been through a blender a few times."

"You're sure vivid about that," Tali says, coughing quietly. She hesitates yet again. "I…I think I have a cold."

"You're a trooper. You get shot twice, and you're embarrassed for passing out. I think you're allowed to have a bit of a cold." I hold out my fist for her to bump. Tali just stares at it for a few moments before wrapping her three fingers around my fist. I try to hold back my laughter, but fail miserably.

"What?" she asks accusatively. "I'm not used to these human gestures. It looks like a handshake or something, right?"

"Close," I say. "It's called a fist-bump. You just kind of make a fist, like this –" I show her my clenched fist pointedly. "– and then you…bump the fists together."

She makes a fist and keeps staring, no doubt confused due to all the drugs running through her system. "Like this?" Her three fingered fist looks silly compared to mine, but then again, my fist probably looks ridiculous to her as well. I bump her fist and try to hold back laughing again.

"You've got it down," I say. "The name's Drake, by the way. Drake Benson."

"Tali," she responds. "Wait…you knew that already. Oh, well." She looks at the arm with her omnitool, at the IVs and tubing and medical equipment attached to her. Then she freezes suddenly, as if in realization.

"The data!" She doesn't exactly exclaim it, but rather mumbles it louder than usual. She touches a few holographic buttons and swiftly scans through. _She's not moving bad for a person I thought was dead several hours back._

"It's gone," I say simply. "The turian you met with, and the salarians – they erased it. I heard him say –"

Tali snorts, cutting me off, and her voice grows in volume. She must be starting to feel better…tough girl. "I would never be so foolish as to have something this valuable in one place. I have backups." My heart lunges forward for about the ninth time today, and my mouth drops. _Everything seems to be going right again!_

"Yep, it's here," she says. "Not to mention, the idiots forgot to empty the Recycle Bin in the first place. You _always_ empty the Recycle Bin when deleting important data. That's just plain pathetic."

"The data's there?" I can barely process it.

"Yes," Tali says back. "It's a secure file, encrypted and such. But I have the key to decrypt it. If you need it, that is – I mean, you did save my life."

"Oh, _hell _yes." I leap from my chair and do my best to keep from dancing. _Oh, it's so difficult!_ _Oh, the taste of sweet victory._

After I give her my wireless code and she transfers the file, my legs about buckle from joy. This is damn expensive information…and it looks like I didn't fuck shit up after all! Whoopee!

"Tali, you have no idea what this means to me," I say, barely able to keep from running off. "To everyone…to the whole damn Alliance. I'm going to tell Shepard – I've _got_ to tell Shepard before he talks to the Council. He should be in the tower now."

"Sure," Tali says, sounding dazed once again. "Go do…you know, the saving Alliance thing. Or…yeah. Hmm." She holds out her fist again, like some otherworldly beacon of awesome.

And I bump the shit out of it.


	5. Chapter 4: Apocalypso

_CHAPTER NOTES: Wow, it's been an age and a half since I worked on this! I came back to it pretty frequently, brainstorming, taking the pen to paper (and occasionally fingers to keyboard), but…I could never continue, for any number of reasons. Most prominent among these was writer's block. Ah, accursed foe…but I've dealt with it. So now I'm continuing this._

_It only took a couple days to finish this, and I'm already working on Chapter 5, but I should tell you ahead of time - I'll be taking a two month 'leave' starting April 10th. I'll try to get back to this right after returning._

_I won't keep you reading off-topic ramblings much longer. If you've been reading this/waiting for this chapter to come out, thanks for keeping it all in mind – your support is integral to my writing. If you're new, I still hope you enjoy it! Much love,_

_Hadij Drake_

* * *

Chapter 4: Apocalypso

"What the hell do you mean?"

I hear a crackly sigh from the other end of the line, and the finger hovering near my ear twitches. I understand the way that the chain of command works, and I understand that I pretty much ignored it just now…but desperate times call for desperate measures. Captain Anderson would understand that much.

"I don't know how else to put it, Corporal. Shepard isn't here. And I haven't been able to reach him via any conventional communications." Anderson pauses. "And you're positive that this evidence implicates Saren directly? The Council is irritated enough at our accusations as it is, and I'd rather avoid more political confrontation."

"I'd bet my life on it. Tali already did. The quarian," I clarify, boarding the transit. I hurriedly locate a destination downtown, a hub for bars and more sleazy attractions, hoping that the time it takes to get there will give me enough leeway to find out where Shepard really is. I'm leaving Tali and Dr. Michel alone, which isn't exactly optimal, but I have to find Shepard if we're going to have any chance to get this mess sorted out. We're running behind the schedule a bit already. Time is of the essence. "I'm sending you a copy of the recording right now. Oh, and I'm trying to triangulate the Commander's location, but it'll take a few minutes."

"Council is already in session. We were actually just explaining how we lost the data. To put it simply, we needed Shepard here twenty minutes ago," says the Captain wryly. "Track him down, Benson. I'd prefer to have him with us when we explain the situation to the Council, for better or worse."

"From what I hear, he's not on the best terms with the Council," I reply. Muscle memory kicks in as my fingers glide across a transparent set of keys, issuing a string of commands to my omnitool. "What makes you so sure that they need his opinion to convict Saren of anything?"

"It's less about his opinion and more about the implications for the future. Before…before Eden Prime, Shepard was practically a lock to be the first human Spectre." I can tell that he wanted to say Nihlus, but something is holding him back. It's probably still difficult for Anderson, coming to grips with the abruptness and finality of the turian Spectre's death. The more that I think about it, the less I can blame him. "But Eden Prime made everything significantly…fuzzier."

"And you think this evidence might get the Council to reconsider?"

"I'm not going to be placing any bets…like I said; everything's a little fuzzy at the moment."

Shepard's location appears on my interface, and I glance at the Transit map – two more stops and I'll be just around the corner from the building. Information springs up and I skim it, wincing at the description. "Well, Captain, if I _were_ a betting man, I'd put money on Shepard being pretty fuzzy as well. But I'll do what I can to get in touch."

"Thanks. Good luck, Corporal."

I whistle as the com disconnects. In the back of my mind, I remember something my parents had told me once…that luck is simply when preparation meets opportunity.

_Well, I'm unprepared, this is an inopportune moment, and I'm going to a nightclub affectionately dubbed Apocalypso. What could possibly go wrong?_

"Fuck luck," I mutter.

* * *

Even the doors to Apocalypso feel greasier than they should. The smell of sex and alcohol hits me, followed shortly thereafter with a warm gust of wind. The breeze carries all the smells rolled into one, mixed with marijuana, spice, and the disconcerting moisture of sweat. It's like I jumped back in time. I expect Brad to come around the corner any minute now, offering me a free drink and some of his signature "advice."

_You're never going to see him again._

I dash the thought before it grows. I make my way through the crowd of gyrating bodies, keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of Shepard, just the slightest clue…hair against my skin, dizzy thoughts, breath on the back of my neck, sweat on my palms…

_Focus._

My knees wobble a bit as I shove the memories away, determined. I hear a familiar laugh and glance in its direction, catching a glimpse of what appears to be…a poker table?

"You had to _see_ this shit to believe it," said the voice, almost choking on his bubbling mirth. "So, I'm trying to make my way past half-court, and I'm feeling pretty good about having gotten this far, but it's hard to pull any moves with leggings and high heels, right? Now, I don't even know how it _got_ to this point, I mean, I was just trying to make a point about how it wasn't all in the clothing, but the next thing I know, she fucking shoulder-charges me. So here I am, on the ground in a pair of broken high heels, while she does a layup and beats me at my game, and all I can do is crawl around and bitch about how she just fouled me, when –"

"Shepard?" I finally finish pushing through the crowd. Jericho Shepard meets my eyes and for a second his laughter fades. I look around at the table – a rather masculine asari, two batarians, a turian, another human, and all of them cracking up. Shepard starts to giggle again and pulls his cards in closer, using them to cover his mouth.

"Did you ever score?" one of the batarians asks, taking a card from the deck and flipping it out for all to see. I notice the layout of the table, that it isn't exactly poker. No, this is something else entirely, with the only similarity being the fact that there are cards, and there seem to be twice as many as are in a human deck.

"Not even once," Shepard says, earning more laughs from his companions. "In the end, I had to hand it to her. Except…"

"Except what?" asks the asari drunkenly, eyes drifting lazily to the point of nearly being shut.

Shepard leans in, and the rest of the table follows suit. "Except that she couldn't dunk," he whispers.

The table is practically raging now, a mess of laughter and booze. I nudge Shepard and he manages to stifle his amusement a little, laying down his cards as he does so. "What's up, buh-dy?"

"You need to get off your misogynist ass," I say flatly, trying to ignore the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I'm surprised at first that the asari is laughing, but then I remember – no gender, technically. Technically. "You know Tali, the quarian? She still has the data. Anderson's waiting for you, along with Udina and the Council. This is it."

Shepard pouts as he loses the hand, and the other human rakes in a pretty substantial sum of chips. "But I'm having _fun._" He blinks, and suddenly takes on a more serious demeanor. "Wait…wait a second. Did you just…did you just say…we have it? Whatever it was that she got, it isn't deleted?"

"That's the only thing I said," I say, but I'm interrupted by a full body hug. Even drunk, Shepard moves faster than I can comprehend, nearly tackling me to the ground.

"We did it!" Shepard shouts, his arm slung around my shoulder. "We fucking did it!"

"Sure you did!" says the other human, a little cross-eyed from the intoxication.

The turian beside him leans his head back, groaning loudly. "But what about your money?" he asks, exaggerating the last word.

"Put it on my chit," Shepard says, sagging a little. I spin him around to prop him up against the wall, taking his credit chit and handing it to the man I assume is the dealer.

"How many drinks have you had, man?" I ask him, letting go for a minute.

Shepard leans on the wall and manages to stand up fairly straight, clearing his throat. The smell of tequila is strong on his breath, as is something stranger, something…batarian, maybe batarian ale? Either way, he's trashed. Or at least, he should be. "Who gives a varren's ass about quantity? It's the quality that counts. And Drake, this son of a bitch…" He jabs himself in the chest with a thumb. "…is qualified."

I can't help it, I grin. "Shepard, that makes no fucking sense."

"Damn straight."

The dealer passes the chit back and I check it with my omnitool. More money is on it now than was before, at least. It'll have to do. I slowly help Shepard off the wall, my right arm under his left, and then around to grip his right shoulder.

"I can walk," he slurs insistently, but I don't let go. His feet are mostly dragging the ground right now.

"Let's wait till we get you to the transit," I say, trying to reassure him. Apocalypso is crowded with swaying members of all species, and it's especially hard to maneuver while dragging Shepard along with me. "Then I'll let go. I can't afford to have you pass out now."

* * *

We're headed towards the Presidium now, and Shepard has donned a serious expression. He has a finger raised to his ear as I play Tali's recording once more.

"_Eden Prime was a major victory," _says Saren, all venomous honey and grating ecstasy. _"The beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the Conduit."_

"_And one step closer to the return of the Reapers," _replies Matriarch Benezia. I'm careful not to let any recognition show.

Shepard massages his closed eyelids, clearly deep in thought. "Again."

"I don't know what you're expecting to find," I say, but I play it anyways. "We've got what we need – proof that Saren is a traitor. What else are you looking for?"

The recording winds down once more, and Shepard opens his eyes. "The beacon apparently brought Saren and his partner closer to finding this Conduit, but right now, we have no idea what it is. At the same time, since it's what brought him closer…it's reasonable to assume we're just as close to finding whatever it is."

Shepard drums his fingers on his knee, pausing to add it all up. "Whatever this Conduit is, it's important to his cause…which apparently has something to do with the return of the Reapers. All these pretty words mean nothing if they don't have pretty faces." He nods, considering, and finally makes up his mind. "I think we need to have a word with Tali before we talk to the Council."

"Captain Anderson seemed pretty intent on you getting to the Council as soon as possible."

"But without context, this information doesn't mean shit. There's something nastier at work here, and the quarian will probably be able to give us a better idea of what it is."

I smile a little. Shepard's way smarter than he lets on. "For being drunk, you're sure great at putting together the big picture."

He snorts. "If you get trashed enough, you wind up running into some ugly situations. If you ask me, being able to think clearly while inebriated is a life skill."

* * *

I sit down by Tali and give her hand a little squeeze. She shifts under the hospital bed sheets, subtle and tired, and her mask swivels to regard me coolly.

For a moment, she says nothing.

"I had a dream that I was a cloud," she whispers finally, her voice cracking.

"Well, that's fucking fantastic."

"Shut up, Shepard," I say, punching him gently in the arm. "And?"

Tali was quiet for several seconds. "I wish I could be a spaceship instead."

Shepard sighs. "Tali, I hate to be…abrupt. But we need to ask you some questions about the recording you obtained."

"The geth recording for my pilgrimage," she says, nodding slowly. "Yes, I remember. I almost died, you know."

"How very astute of you," Shepard drawls sardonically, hiccupping. He's holding his own impressively, considering how much he's likely had to drink, but he still reeks of it, and occasionally he'll exaggerate odd syllables. "And you say it's a geth recording?"

"Yes," Tali says, moving underneath the covers. "The geth usually wipe their memories clean upon system termination. But if you're _really _careful, and _really_ quick…you can sometimes salvage a portion of their data cache." She giggles. "I'm _really_ quick."

"Why were you trying to take a geth data cache in the first place?" I ask, doing my best to act the part of Shepard's uninformed sidekick.

"It was going to be for my pilgrimage," she explains, as though speaking to a small child who didn't know any better. "All quarians embark on a pilgrimage to prove their worth to the flotilla. Typically, you'll bring back something physical, like a ship, or weaponry – but occasionally, someone will bring back something like knowledge. Or information." Her omnitool springs up around her wrist and she holds it out. "This information is _extremely_ valuable. The Shadow Broker understood that. But this information wasn't useful to the fleet, so I planned to market it elsewhere. Reasonable, yes? But some people didn't want this information getting out. I suppose that's where Saren comes in. For the information. For the _information_."

"What about the Conduit?" asks Shepard, a fist under his chin. "What about the Reapers?"

"In-for-may-shun," Tali responds, dragging out each syllable. "_In-for-may-shun._"

"Yes, that word," Shepard says, sprawled out in his own chair. "But like…no. About the Conduit. And the Reapers."

I lean back in my chair a bit, a grin of willful silence spreading across my face. It's like a corny joke of some sort…_a drugged-up quarian and drunken Alliance commander walk into a bar, and both ask for the same drink. So the bartender says…_

"Reapers," says Tali, recognition permeating her voice. "The geth seem to revere them as some sort of celestial entity. A race of super-advanced synthetics, responsible for the extinction of the Protheans fifty thousand years ago…"

"And Saren's trying to bring them back," I finish for her, and a chill runs down my spine. I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to keep up the guise of ignorance. If I could just give them the truth, we might be able to save Kirrahe's men from being indoctrinated, but then again…then the Rachni might go unchecked…everything happens for a reason. Got to keep it under control, Drake. Calm and collected.

Shepard and I exchange a wary glance, and I know that he's realized the implications of what Tali just said too. The Protheans were the most advanced race of their time. If the Reapers could wipe them out, humans would be no different.

No race would be any different.

"The Conduit," Shepard says at last, glancing back at Tali. "Do you have any idea what it is?"

"No," Tali replies, rolling her head back to the middle of her pillow. "I feel like I'm made of cotton candy. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Yeah," I say, moving her hand back onto the bed. "You can sleep now."

* * *

"What the hell do you mean?"

I feel a sense of déjà vu. Reverse déjà vu? "This is big, Captain, bigger than any of us could've imagined. Reapers haven't been seen in millennia, and now Saren's involved with them? That's bad news, no matter how you slice it."

"Without a doubt, Corporal." I hear Anderson curse under his breath on the other end, but I can't make out anything intelligible. "Get Shepard here as fast as you can. The Council needs to be informed about this. We need to mobilize an effort to find Saren as soon as possible."

"Working on it," I say, and I hang up. Shepard is walking alongside me, albeit in a more zigzag pattern, as we head towards the elevators that lead to the Council chambers. We start to jog as we get closer to the elevators. Meanwhile, I get Ash on the line and wait for her to say something, anything.

"Hey Drake – kind of busy here. You know Nirali Bhatia? Well, her husband's here asking for the rights to her body, and this bastard is denying him access just because of some stupid –"

"No time," I say back. Shepard and I are in the elevators now, and he's leaning against the glass, brow furrowed. "Get to the Council chambers as soon as possible. Long story short, we've got the data, and shit just got very real."

"I – uh – will do. I guess."

"Why couldn't I talk to her?" Shepard pouts, head drooping lazily. I sprayed him with some cologne I found in the hospital area, but I hadn't had time to do much else.

"In case you've failed to notice, you're still on the upper. If all goes well, they might not even notice, but just in case, try to keep your mouth shut for the most part." I grab him by both shoulders and he looks up, cocksure and glib as the day I first met him. "Now, I think the Council's a bunch of stuck-up pricks just as much as you do, but this is the way we get our foot in the door. So try and keep the shit-face straight, and we'll get through this, alright?"

"Gunnery Chief Williams already knew I was drinking," he says back, and I take my hands off his shoulders. He smiles and claps me on the back, straightening out his attire one last time. "But thanks, all the same."

I blink. "The great Commander Jericho Shepard, giving his thanks to a lowly Corporal? Pinch me, I'm dreaming." I glance out the glass, my face straight. "Really though…I appreciate it. Nice to see the good guy underneath getting his chance to shine."

Shepard sighs and glances at a non-existent watch. "Ah, look at my wrist. Seems like it's about time for you to fuck right off." He throws his head back at the glass and lets it sit there, staring at the scenery as it flies by.

"These elevators," I say, breaking into a grin.

"Fuckin' A."

* * *

I see Anderson at the foot of the steps as we near the Council. Ambassador Udina's voice rings out, but I can't tell exactly what he's saying.

"I gave the quarian's evidence to Udina," he says briskly, nodding to Shepard. "He's presenting it all to the Council as we speak."

Shepard nods and says nothing as he follows the Captain up the stairs. I follow too, if only to make sure that he doesn't do anything foolish. So far, so good…his poker face now is far better than it was an hour ago.

"…_brought us one step closer to finding the Conduit,"_ says Saren, his voice projected for the whole Council to hear.

"_And one step closer to the return of the Reapers."_

For a moment, silence reigns. The Council appears much less haughty. I hear betrayal can do that to a person.

"You wanted proof?" says Udina, finally. "There it is."

"This evidence is irrefutable, Ambassador." The turian councilor appears particularly shaken, though his echoing voice does nothing to suggest it. There's something else there, though…a lingering apprehension in his stiff movements, a palpable anxiety. "Saren will be stripped of his Spectre status, and all efforts will be made to bring him in to answer for his crimes."

Naturally, the asari councilor was next to speak. "I recognize the other voice. The one speaking with Saren. It's Matriarch Benezia."

"So, Saren's working with an asari matriarch." Shepard crosses his arms and steps back, a tad wobbly, but he braces himself on the railing easily. "Sounds like we have our work cut out for us. Don't suppose this is a retired matriarch?"

If the councilor picked up on his sarcasm, her face didn't show it. She shook her head. "Being a matriarch is a lifelong commitment; you never truly retire. She's a particularly popular figure in asari circles, and will likely have collected a following of her own. I could put out the word of her treachery, but that would likely do more harm than good."

"What do you mean?"

The asari purses her lips at Anderson's comment. "Benezia has followers that would quite literally do anything for her. Followers that I'd prefer be kept in the dark, if at all possible. If she doesn't contact too many people individually, she'll have less help to work with." The asari councilor nods subconsciously, squinting off into the distance. "Add to that her biotic capability and general knowledge of our inner workings, and Matriarch Benezia becomes far more than a threat. She's no doubt a powerful ally for Saren."

"I'm more intrigued at the prospect of these…_Reapers._" The salarian councilor leans forward, uneasy lines creasing his face. "What do you know about them?"

"Only what the geth knew," Anderson admits. "We were able to recover a rough description from the data cache the quarian took. The Reapers were a race of sentient machines that existed roughly fifty thousand years ago. From what we've gathered, the Reapers are responsible for the extinction of the Protheans. But what's really strange is that they vanished immediately afterwards."

"The geth look up to the Reapers as gods of some sort. And Saren is a sort of prophet to them, a herald of their return." Shepard takes a step forward, confident as ever, a sort of fiery belief in his eyes. "Now, he could just be using the geth, or he could be trying to do something worse…far worse. Something of universal consequence. If this asari matriarch believes that he's actually trying to bring the Reapers back…well, I'm inclined to believe her. And if it's true, we're in some deep sh-"

"Shepard's trying to say that we might have to look at the bigger picture," I interrupt, and I feel the gaze of nearly a dozen eyes focus. Shepard looks my way, and I pick up a mixture of surprise and gratitude. I clear my throat. I'm pretty sure I'm breaking the protocol for Council meetings, but I've already dug my grave – might as well lie in it.

"Whatever this Prothean beacon was, it seems to have been a clue in the direction of the Conduit. And even though Saren has a head start, he can't be much farther than we are – after all, Shepard interacted with the beacon too." I gesture towards him, and his jaw drops as he comes to some sort of realization.

"The Reapers!" Shepard exclaims, and he slumps somewhat. I catch him under the arm before he hits the ground. "When the beacon linked with my mind, I saw a race of organics being killed…killed by synthetics. I think that the race of organics was the Protheans."

Anderson catches on. "Which could only mean that the race of synthetics –"

"– was the motherfucking Reapers," Shepard finishes.

For several long seconds, no one says anything. The silence is almost tangible.

"Shepard," chides Udina, the word almost gasped. "Are you out of your mind?"

"To the contrary, I'm only mildly intoxicated." Shepard stands free of my arms and I close my eyes. _You can't be fucking serious. No. No. This can't be happening. But…well, revelations come with a cost, I guess._

"Thank you for your guidance, my ambassadorial liege," says Shepard, giving a little knee-jerk bow to Udina. "But –" He blinks a couple times, then stretches. "But your services are no longer required."

"We're all laughing," says Udina, venom on his tongue. He turns to me. "Would you care to explain the state of your commanding officer, Corporal Benson?"

"Would if I could," I say back, doing my utmost not to smile. "But he's only been my commanding officer for a couple days now. And besides," I lower my voice to a hushed whisper. "You sorta-kinda-definitely told me to bring him here as fast as I could. I think he held up pretty well until the whole revelation bit. And can you really blame him?"

Udina glares daggers at the Commander, whose face is going red with the effort of holding back laughter. "I'm in the _midst_ of blaming him, Corporal."

"Despite the vulgarity of his outburst, Commander Shepard has a point," the salarian councilor muses. "Whatever vision this beacon granted him appears to be a warning of some sort – perhaps a chronicle of the Protheans' last days. It would be unwise to not pay it any mind."

"Most unwise," Shepard says encouragingly, nodding his approval.

"And yet, what do we have to go by?" The turian councilor snorts. Or rather, he does whatever would pass for a turian snort. "The dream of an inebriated human? The word of a traitor? The beliefs of a misguided group of synthetics? I understand that Saren has betrayed this Council, and all that Spectres stand for. But are you truly misguided enough to believe that he would try and bring back the machines that were responsible for the extinction of all life in the galaxy? And those are just the easy questions. Where have the Reapers been since then? Why did they leave in the first place? Why can't we find any trace of their existence? For all we know, they might not even exist."

"Listen to yourself!" Shepard has taken on a more serious tone once more, and his eyes are alight with righteous angst. I don't blame him. "I already tried to warn you about Saren, and you saw how that turned out. The Reapers completely eclipse the issue of a rogue Spectre in every way, and you're going to simply…what, ignore all the evidence until it's too late?"

"The issues differ greatly." The asari councilor bows her head in acknowledgment. "You've proved Saren's disloyalty – on that much we can agree. But we have no proof of the Reapers being anything other than a convenient way to mislead the geth into joining Saren's cause. We can all agree that he's using the geth to search for the Conduit, but we don't really know why."

"The Reapers are likely just a myth, Commander. A convenient set of lies Saren is using to mask his true purpose." The salarian councilor muses, crossing his arms in a bored manner. "While an interesting prospect, the Reapers are naught more than a creative fairytale, one that Saren is manipulating to bend the geth to his will."

"But if you're wrong…what if it happens again?" asks Shepard, a more desperate edge to his voice than before. "Fifty thousand years ago, these Reapers exterminated all galactic civilization. If Saren can find the Conduit –"

"He's a rogue agent on the run for his life," says the turian councilor. "He's no longer holding any of the cards. He no longer has the resources he used to. The real issue here is Saren. Not the deluded fable of the civilizations before us. We have stripped him of his Spectre status, and that is all you'll get from us in terms of support – we can't afford to do more and trigger a war. A few dozen human lives are not worth the stability the universe has now."

"So," Shepard says. He pauses, looking down, before looking back up at the Council. "This is how it has to be…all over again. Every time humanity asks for help, you ignore us. What's it going to take for you to commit to helping us? Genocide? Because that's not outside the realm of possibility."

"Shepard is right." Udina steps up, pointing an accusative finger at each councilor in turn. "I'm sick of this Council and its anti-human bull-"

"Ambassador," interrupts the asari councilor, and he falls silent. "There is another solution. A way that requires no fleet, army, or direct intervention…a mutually beneficial solution for both parties in this case."

"No," says the turian councilor, almost spitting. "It's too soon. Humanity is not yet ready for the responsibilities that come with joining the Spectres."

"Think about it this way," I blurt out, pacing to avoid looking at the Council. "You don't have to send a fleet into the Traverse and risk war if you do this. And at the same time, the Ambassador gets his human Spectre. A solid compromise, and it's not like you weren't already considering Commander Shepard for Spectre status."

I shoot a glance at Shepard, who watches silently. "The Commander and I have our differences, but I'll gladly attest to his skill in combat, as well as diplomacy, even if his means are a tad…avant-garde. But really, diversity is the galaxy's greatest asset, and the Commander is the perfect proponent of working things out unconventionally." I shrug. "Commander Shepard can get Saren – all you have to do is give him the resources."

The councilors exchange looks. Shepard leans in towards me and whispers, "You forgot to mention my quick wit and extraordinary courage. Bitches love extraordinary courage."

"Don't make me regret this, you ass."

"Commander Shepard," says the asari councilor, and Shepard turns toward her, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Step forward."

He does so with a grace unbefitting of a drunken man. The asari continues. "It is the decision of the Council that you will be granted all the powers and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel."

"Spectres are not trained, but chosen." The salarian's arms are crossed as his voice echoes around the Council chambers. "Individuals forged in the fire of service and battle, those whose actions elevate them above the rank and file."

My eyes are starting to water. People are looking out their windows, curious about the spectacle taking place. Shepard is unfazed, standing at attention with an unbroken gaze. The asari speaks once more, staring down at us from atop her pedestal of sorts. "Spectres are an ideal, a symbol. The embodiment of courage, determination, and self-reliance. They are the right-hand of the Council – instruments of our will."

"Spectres bear a great burden," says the turian councilor, a hint of grudging in his voice. "They are protectors of galactic peace, both our first and last line of defense. The safety of the galaxy is theirs to uphold."

Shepard beams, and the turian councilor's eyes narrow.

"You are the first human Spectre, Commander Jericho Shepard," says the asari councilor. "This is a great accomplishment for you and your entire species."

There's an awkward silence, and everyone stares at Shepard, waiting for his first words as a Spectre.

"So," he finally says. "This is cool, I guess. What's next?"

"We're sending you into the Traverse after Saren," responds the salarian councilor, looking a little miffed at the Commander's lack of gratitude. "He is a fugitive from justice, so you are authorized to use whatever means necessary to apprehend or eliminate him."

Shepard smiles.

* * *

"I got here in the middle of it," Ashley says as I greet her. She turns to Shepard, holding out a hand. "I got worried when you started looking more shit-faced, but you pulled it off. Congrats, Commander. You definitely deserve it."

"The hell I do," he says with a giggle. "If they're going to put me on a pedestal as the model citizen for humanity, I'll do whatever I can to prove I'm not. A model citizen, I mean. Hmm. All the same, I will take Saren down." The smirk is frozen on Shepard's face, but his eyes are dead and cold. "I _will_."

"It would befit you to act according to your rank and status, Shepard," says Ambassador Udina coldly. "You represent humanity as much as I do, now."

"No wonder other species hate us."

Udina's eyes narrow, and I offer an apologetic smile. "This isn't a joke, Corporal Benson. The reputation of humanity around the galaxy rests in the hands of Commander Shepard, and if he continues his current behavior, we might never be able to make repairs in the eyes of other species."

"There are more important things at stake than the way others view us, Ambassador," says Anderson. "We should make arrangements. Commander Shepard will need a ship, a crew, and a vast array of resources should we have any hope in this mission's success."

"You're right, of course." Udina cocks his head to a side. "Come with me, Anderson. I'll require your expertise to set all this up."

* * *

My heart beats faster and faster as we slowly descend the stairway. Realization starts to set in. We're actually doing this…and I'm a significant part of it, if all goes according to plan. If Ashley and I are assigned to the _Normandy_, we'll each be responsible for something far larger than ourselves.

The thought of Virmire floats across my mind and lingers. Details about the series of events leading up to it have been fading away, after not having anything to do with them for over a year, but it's impossible for me to forget the decision I had to make. Possibly the hardest decision in the series. And the more I think about it, the more it hurts to do so. It's not just a game anymore. I can't simply think about Ash as the xenophobic asshole, or Kaidan as a boring replica of Carth Onasi. Now Ashley is the officer I served under for months, someone I care about, someone kind, with a spectacular personality. And Kaidan is actually fucking funny, a sarcastic soldier with more of a conscience than the rest of us.

I try to tell myself that it's going to be easier, since I won't be the one making the final decision, but the thought is utter bullshit, and I know it. Knowing that I don't have control; that for all I know _I _could be the one who dies…maybe that would be better, even. Maybe.

Maybe we won't have to make that decision.

One can only hope.

"You alright, Drake?"

I turn at the voice, snapped out of my morbid reverie. She's staring, and I meet her eyes for a moment…brown, concerned, inquisitive. She has a softer face than the game would have you believe. Because she's _real._"Yeah, Ash. Just fine. I'm just…"

As I look at her, a fleeting thought rushes through my head. The idea that maybe, just maybe, I could tell her right now – tell her the truth, and make her go. Not that she'd believe me. But if there was even a slight chance that she would, wouldn't that make it worth the risk?

"I'm just fine," I finish, looking back down. I feel her gaze stay on me, but I don't meet it. "It's a lot to take in," I lie, giving her a strained smile. "It's fucking chaos, and we're right at the helm of it. You know?"

"Commander Shepard."

The man standing in front of us gives us reason for pause, and Shepard nods. "Admiral Kahoku, I remember you. Actually served under you when I was just getting started in the Alliance. We're actually in the middle of something, but…ah, the hell with it. Anything you need?"

"Right to the point. I like that." Kahoku nods, but his face remains stoic. "You always were good at getting things done, Commander – probably one of the first and foremost reasons you'll make such a fantastic Spectre. It's good that we have one of our own amongst the Spectres now…but of course, that isn't why I accosted you."

"Of course it isn't. So, why _did_ you 'accost' me?"

"I'm getting stonewalled by bureaucratic assholes," says the Admiral, shaking his head. "So yes, I suppose you could say that _something_is wrong. Not that it's anything new, but I really need help with solving this problem of mine, and without support, that's impossible. But…maybe you can help me."

The Admiral pulls out a datapad and fiddles with it for a moment. "One of my recon teams was investigating some strange activity out in the Traverse. We lost contact yesterday. Now I can't get clearance to check it out. Suddenly, it's a 'restricted area.' Load of political bullshit, that. But there's a loophole – silly code-words don't apply to a Spectre. You can investigate anything, anywhere. _You_ can find out why my team dropped out of contact."

"I'm not going to make any promises, but I'll try to check it out," says Shepard.

"Either way, I appreciate it. I was running out of options." The Admiral gives a curt nod and glances back at the datapad, fiddling with it some more. "I'll see if I can find anything out through official channels, but I'm not holding my breath. I'll upload the information on where my team was last seen to the _Normandy_. If you're transferred, feel free to come back and tell me where to send it."

* * *

The Citadel is truly gigantic. The scope of it was honestly lost in translation when I used to play the games, but travelling down through the Wards and across the Presidium leaves me in a state of mild shock. We have dinner at a pub down in the Wards, complete with what the chefs refer to as 'fine English cuisine.' On Earth, we just called it 'fish and chips.'

As we board the transit to C-Sec headquarters, I get buzz on my comlink – apparently, from the Medical Wards where Tali had been staying. I roll the dial on my ear to pick it up, lazy from the food. "Corporal Drake Benson speaking."

"It's Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. You are meeting at the _Normandy_docking station, correct?"

She sounds much better than before – a certain youthful exuberance, alive and excited. But how did she…? "Uh, well, I'm honestly not sure just yet. How do you know the name of our ship, though, let alone where it's docked?"

"I have my methodology," she says simply, with all the certainty that comes with knowing you're right. "And yes, that is where you are meeting, if the cameras are of any significance. I'll meet you and the Commander there in ten minutes."

"But –"

She disconnects before I can think of an excuse. I lean back, and the Commander punches my shoulder. "Yellow hovercraft. Who was that?"

_Of all the things to make it into the late 22__nd__ century…_

"Just Tali," I say, shrugging. "She says she's going to meet us at the docking bay of the _Normandy_, but I'm guessing she's still drugged up if she thinks she can be moving around a lot. And we aren't even headed there in the first place."

"You'd be surprised," Ashley says. "I mean, I don't really know how _their_ kind heals, but Medigel is excellent for simple bullet wounds and abrasions. It's bruising and blunt force trauma that causes issue. She's probably feeling a lot better by now."

"One sec," Shepard says, glancing at his omnitool. He shoots a mischievous grin my way. "It's from Captain Anderson. He says to meet at the _Normandy_ docking bay."

* * *

I think I'm starting to subconsciously associate Udina's face with everything I hate most in the world.

As we step out of the C-Sec elevator, I catch a glimpse of him at the docking bay. The Normandy's doors are wide open while he and Anderson talk to one another, no doubt about the…impending change of command. I honestly forgot all about that. This is bound to be awkward.

"Drake Benson, correct?" I start at the mention of my name and see…Tali? Guess she wasn't kidding, then. She looks almost remarkably good, in spite of the bullets she'd taken earlier, and she's wearing a new set of quarian body armor.

She probably noticed my stare, because she nods. "The doctors at the hospital cleared me for release two hours ago. They helped me with the transition into a new suit, so the environment could be properly regulated, and I'm starting to feel better already."

"You remember my name," I say. It's all that comes to mind right now. "Could've sworn you were so doped up you wouldn't remember anything. Good to see you back on your feet though, Tali."

"I wouldn't miss this for anything," she says coyly, glancing between the three of us. "You must be Commander Shepard. Your reputation precedes you. Now, I know we didn't meet in the best of circumstances…but I'd like to offer my services aboard the _Normandy_."

"That's fancy talk for asking to come with us," says Shepard back, leaning against the elevator doors. "Now look, I appreciate the offer and all…but you were recently injured, and for all I know, you'll be a liability. So be a good girl and get back to your pilgrimage."

"She knew we'd be meeting here before we ever did," I admit, nudging Shepard lightly. "She's obviously got a lot of technological experience, something we could always use more of. And, uh…" I eye her waist. "She has a shotgun."

"My pilgrimage can wait," Tali agrees, and her right hand strays close to the shotgun, smooth and deft. "Saren is a threat to the entire galaxy as long as he roams free – and that includes my people, Shepard. Please."

"Now, don't take this the wrong way," Ashley says.

I wince. "That's about the same thing as saying 'no offense,' nig nog." I take on a more hushed tone. "You're just going to follow it up with something that someone's bound to take the wrong way."

She swallows, biting her lip anxiously. "Well, I might as well just throw it out there, then. This is an Alliance vessel. A _human_vessel. We already have a Turian and a Krogan on board – and while I don't mistrust you, Tali, it'd be nice not to feel outnumbered."

"You have a staff of dozens of humans," Tali responds coolly. "Drawing a barrier between other species is about as xenophobic as you can get. How about we all just treat each other equally?"

"I'm not trying to be offensive, here," she says, and I can tell she's just going to keep digging her grave deeper and deeper. "It's just that…well, surely you can understand wanting to be around your own species more often than not. Right?"

"Quarians tend to be at the brunt of many racist comments, seeing as we travel frequently on our pilgrimages. So no. I can't understand."

Shepard's been watching without talking up to this point, boyish amusement evident on his face. He doesn't bother speaking up now.

Ash looks to me, now. "Come on, Drake. Back me up here."

I raise both of my hands. "Whoa, now. I already told you what you were getting into. I'd love to have Tali on the ship."

"Yeah," Shepard says finally, eyes twinkling. "Get the sand out of your vagina. A little ethnic diversity never hurt anyone."

"C-Commander!" Ashley's face is a shade of red I didn't think physically possible.

Tali barely even notices. "So, is that a yes?"

Commander Shepard sighs, shaking his head. "If you keep annoying Gunnery Chief Williams, I don't see any reason to refuse you."

Tali lets out a youthful little squeal. "I'm going to take a look at the _Normandy_. Thank you so, _so_ much Commander – you won't regret this."

Ash glares daggers at the Commander. "I…have a few things to check. Don't mind me. Just call me on the com when we need to get going."

I'm already heading towards the _Normandy_, but Udina feels the need to tell me that their conversation is 'private' anyways. Self-important prick. I board the _Normandy _and marvel once again at its masterful design, at the polished gleam of every surface and control interface. Joker is twirling around in his chair at the cockpit, humming something that sounds vaguely like the Nightrider theme.

"They'll be breaking the news to Shepard any minute now," he says. "Can't believe Anderson's stepping down. Mind you, stepping down is a load of horse shit – everyone on the crew knows it's really back room politics. Now, I know you're the new guy, so it probably doesn't mean as much to you, but…well, I've known Anderson for a few years. He's the one who initially commissioned the _Normandy_, back in '73. I mean, he's only been her Captain for a few years, but…well, it's going to be different with Shepard at the helm instead." He stops spinning for a moment and looks at me. "You know what I'm saying?"

"Trust me," I say. "I'm used to sudden change."

_You have no idea._

* * *

I wake up with my eardrum ringing and a stinging sensation on my right cheek. For a few moments, I just sit there, blinking, trying to figure out where I was – right, the _SSV Normandy SR-1._ And Shepard is leaning on the table to my left, head cocked to the side as he surveys me, which could only mean –

"You slapped me," I say stupidly.

"He can be taught." Shepard nods. "Can't have my Corporal falling asleep in the mess hall. Scares the rest of the crew away."

I look down at the food I'd prepared, and a few hazy memories come flooding back. I had come down to the hall to get a snack, and once I set it down…well, that's when it got a shade more difficult to remember. If I had to guess, I'd say that I fell asleep while sitting down. Maybe I was more tired than I realized.

"So what's happening?" I say, still confused. I barely discern movement underfoot…the ship is in motion.

"We just entered the Artemis Tau system," he says. "We'll be landing on Therum in just under an hour, and I figured I should give you a heads up before we head out. Unless you want to face whatever waits for us dressed like _that._ It's fucking embarassing"

I look at my raggedy T-Shirt and jeans, abashed. "I'll get ready, Commander."

As he starts to walk away, I realize that I can't actually remember what had happened on Therum. "Commander?"

He turns. "Goddammit Benson, what now?" But he's grinning.

"What are we doing on Therum?"

Shepard turns again, this time to a weapons locker. The assault rifle he takes out is hefty – heftier than I'd ever be comfortable with. "Matriarch Benezia's daughter is doing research there, according to our latest intel."

He flicks the safety back and forth, still with his back to me. "We're going to have a little…chat."


	6. Chapter 5: We Are Scientists!

_CHAPTER NOTES: So, it would appear that ME: Comatose made a halfway triumphant return – a huge shout out of thanks for all those who are giving support to this fic. It's a big deal for me to know that people appreciate my work, no matter how many/few. We've finally hit 50 people on the story alert list! I actually got 220 hits in the hour or so after I posted this while the traffic was working (it stopped after that and froze for no apparent reason), and while that might not be impressive for some, it definitely made me smile._

_We're starting to get into the meat of the story now, slowly but steadily. I have some very interesting twists planned for you all on the road ahead. Oh yes._

_Still going with the theme of song titles for chapter titles, just because I feel like it. Toodles._

_EDIT: This is coming out late because a) I was waiting on a couple interested beta readers to respond and b) I just spent a few days in mourning over the ME3 ending. I still think it can be salvaged, but…wow. IT anyone? This chapter is significantly shorter than many others because it helps set a non-awkward break point and the next chapter is a continuation – aka, it'll be a good 8-10k words by itself. While having a 14-15k word chapter can be fun, it can also be a handful to read. So for now, enjoy this, and I'll get the next part out soon(ish)._

* * *

Chapter 5: We Are Scientists!

My hands are shaking with the fervor of someone rigged to an electric chair. Reasonable, in my opinion, given what I'm being asked to do by the Commander…what we're _all_ being asked to do. Granted, I've heard about missions involving direct air to ground deployment, but Shepard isn't exactly _experienced_ with handling this type of vehicle. And since he's insisted upon being the one to drive it, I feel that I have the right to be anxious.

Commander Shepard isn't like any other officer I've served under. It's almost as though he's a schizophrenic at times, bouncing back and forth between the ornery man-child and the ruthless twenty-nine year old Marine. He's been kind to me in 'moments of weakness,' and has threatened to kill me in others, and I haven't even known him for longer than a week. Currently, I'm pretty sure he's doing his utmost to get each of us to shit our pants and cry, but none of us have given him the satisfaction.

Yet.

"I don't give half a fuck whether you're cozy," Shepard says, the barest hint of a menacing smile touching his lips. "You knew what you signed up for when you joined my ragtag excuse for a squad. So, I'll say it again…I've got some seats that need warming. And so help me God, if you don't do as I say and warm them, I'll see to it that you go skydiving without a parachute instead. One way or another, you're all going to wind up on this planet with me. It's up to you whether that's as an ally or a corpse."

I don't think I've ever seen Garrus terrified, but his face would certainly suggest that he is now. "Now, don't take this the wrong way, Commander. I haven't known you for very long, and I definitely wouldn't be so…_presumptuous _as to assume that you don't know what you're doing. But you've already fessed up that this is your first time actually operating the MAKO, so I'd say my concern is warranted. I'll follow you to hell itself and back in this thing, all the same, but I have to ask. Is this vehicle completely…ah…up to safety standards?"

"It's a fucking death trap," says Ashley sharply, crossing her arms. "Dibs on shotgun."

Tali isn't as enthusiastic. "I think I would prefer to sit in the back, if it's all the same to you."

"So let's get this straight," I say, taking the fingers from the bridge of my nose to look up at the Commander. By now, he's doing calf raises, beaming from ear to ear at the plain horror on each crew member's face. "We pack our sweaty asses in this thing like sardines, all seven of us…"

"Six, actually," says Shepard. "It's more efficient to split up into two groups of three." He looks pensive for a moment, forming his next sentence carefully. "Ah, fuck it – I just hate odd numbers is all. So six it is. I think Tali should get to sit this one out, seeing as she's still recovering from the bullet wounds."

"She looks plenty fine to me," Wrex states dully.

The quarian glances between the two quickly, realizing that she's been given a way out. Suddenly, she grabs her midsection, taking a hissing breath. "Ah, it would seem that my wounds are acting up…so unfortunate, oh, and before our first mission together. It's just…the throbbing, it is excruciating. I should probably go speak with the doctor for my pain medication, before I…before I…" Tali doesn't bother to finish the sentence. She breaks out into a full sprint, and she's gone from the launch bay before anyone has the chance to object.

"Poor soul," says Kaidan, not bothering to mask his sarcasm. "Limping, wounded, barely even held together. It's a miracle she could work the elevator."

I laugh. "So, where was I? Right, sardines. We pack into the MAKO, open the launch bay, and roll right out…we freefall for a couple of clicks, trust that we'll land reasonably close to our target, and ignite engines underneath the MAKO so that we aren't crushed on impact. What's the fatality rate of this thing?"

"Twenty eight percent," Shepard says promptly. "At least four of us should survive it without issue." He scrunches up his face in concentration and draws numbers in the air, as though performing an equation. "Yeah, we can make do with four. It's an even number."

Nobody talks for a full five seconds.

"Human bone structure is far more fragile than my own." Wrex hefts a shotgun. "I'm ready when you are."

"Jesus Christ, I was joking," says the Commander, a note of exasperation in his voice. "Holy fuck, you don't think I'd actually get _inside_ this thing if there was better than a one in four chance I would die, do you? Fuck's sake. Fuck."

"So is it safe?" Kaidan chuckles at my question.

"Perfectly safe," he says. "Extremely uncomfortable, sure, but there's no way we'd use this if there was a chance it couldn't even land properly. Not to mention, Joker's a fantastic pilot, so he'll be able to drop us within a few clicks of the dig site. Nothing to worry about."

"Fuck," says Shepard, smiling unsteadily at the krogan battlemaster. "You were fucking serious, weren't you? You have…something even more impressive than a quad, obviously. The eight nut krogan wonder."

Wrex stares at the Commander for a moment, deadpan, before climbing into the MAKO. "Shepard. That's disgusting."

Garrus still looks apprehensive, so I get in next. It's actually a lot roomier than you'd expect, but with six of us crammed in, I doubt that'll be saying much. I slide in next to Wrex, who promptly leans over and takes a deep whiff of me and my armor. "You smell like a woman."

I can't tell whether that's a good or bad thing. "Human or krogan?"

He laughs quietly, a rumble that rises in his throat and builds to something almost threatening. "Is there supposed to be a difference?"

"Well, I haven't really had the chance to smell a female krogan."

"You may have been led to believe that we smell worse, because we aren't as delicate as wet tissue paper…no offense intended." Wrex flips his shotgun so that he can rest his chin on the stock. "But we're just like any other species, given proper hygiene. The women smell like fruit…and lotion."

"I ate some pineapple earlier," I say, shrugging.

Garrus gets into the seat in front of me, and Wrex glances his way, eyes narrowing. "Vakarian. Took you long enough. Probably best that you went to the restroom _before _getting in, though…for all of us."

"Ah, the acumen of krogan humor." Garrus sighs. "Commander, you should feel free to let Kaidan drive this time, since it'll be your first mission experience with the MAKO…maybe you could just observe and take notes, or something. Just this once."

"He can handle it," says Kaidan, getting in next to Garrus. It's a bit of a sausage fest in here, but with Tali injured and Liara likely waiting on the planet below, it's to be expected. "I mean, it really _is_ his first time. But this girl's sturdy. He'd have to go out of his way to get any of us hurt."

"Doesn't sound like Shepard," says Wrex. I can't tell whether he's joking, but then again, I rarely can.

"Somehow, this is all less than reassuring," I say. I'm still shaking, but not nearly as badly as I had been before. The MAKO is well constructed; that much can't be denied, no, what _I'm_ afraid of is us hitting the ground and being crushed like a tin can under a sneaker.

"I know what I'm doing," Shepard says as he gets in, Ashley occupying the passenger seat. "Just need a bit of refreshing, that's all." He puts the tentatively titled 'car' into drive and we roll forward, bumping against the still-closed launch bay doors.

"You need to turn the ignition first," prompts Ash. My heart skips a beat, and I hear Garrus whimper softly in front of me.

"Maybe the turian is right," says Wrex, shifting somewhat uncomfortably. "I'm all for a suicide mission, but there has to be a chance of success…it's no fun knowing that we'll all be flattened on impact. At least give me the opportunity to fight."

I hear the door rattle. "Please unlock it," says Garrus, definite uncertainty in his voice. I attempt to unbuckle my seatbelt, but it's locked too.

Shepard giggles at our vain efforts. "Oh, it's fine. I meant to do that." The key turns in the ignition and I hear the engine start. For a few seconds, the MAKO backs up. And a moment later we're rolling forward again, smashing into the doors like we'd never moved in the first place.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, Commander, but there's a button for that. No need to try and ram it open."

"Fuck right off, Alenko, I'm handling it. It's just been a while since the simulations. Now, let's see…Joker, are we clear for launch?"

"_I've been making passes for the last ten minutes. I'll have you clear in thirty seconds, wait on my go."_

"Put it into park," Ash whispers loudly. Shepard scoffs.

"I've got my foot on the brake, stop worrying so much." He clicks the button to roll down the launch bay door, and slowly, the planet unveils itself below us. "Joker, the jets are automated…right?"

"_It's three switches, all right by each other, you'll be fine. Clear for launch in ten…nine…eight…"_

"It's these three switches, right here," Ashley says. I close my eyes. Of all the ways to die…

"_Four…three…two…one…now."_

Before the last word has left Joker's mouth we're rolling towards the launch bay exit. Garrus hasn't looked up in the last minute. Wrex is breathing deeply, expressionless and determined. Ash is up in the front, mouthing words, maybe praying. Kaidan is backseat driving as if his life depended on it (which, funnily enough, might be true). And me? Well, I'm still in a state of mild shock. As we roll off the platform and into an empty expanse of air, I can't help thinking…

_Do I really smell like a girl?_

And then, near weightlessness. A sensation of exhilaration and terror, mingled with breathless wonder and the tingle of adrenalin coursing through my body. I hear voices but can't seem to focus on any of them; instead, I look out the window at the landscape rushing up to meet us. The color of rust and ash, the red orange of magmatic and fire, the onyx gleam of something more metallic below. Above that, I can see the horizon, an endless blue breadth of sky and clouds, finally darkening to a black strangeness in the distance. Slowly, I drift back to reality, back to the stony silence broken only by Joker's instruction…

"_Approaching five hundred meters from impact. Ignite primary stabilizers in three, two, one, go. Two hundred meters. Secondary stabilizers in three, two, one, go. Nice and easy…nice and easy…let up on the fuel injection a tad… there she goes."_

Before the last word leaves Joker's mouth, we hit the ground and bounce, once, twice, finally rolling to a stop. The inside of the MAKO is quiet.

"Well," says Wrex. "That wasn't so bad."

"_Commander, I'm picking up some strange readings," _Joker says over the comlink. _"Really strange, like, off the damn charts. It looks like it's coming from an underground complex a few clicks away from the drop zone."_

"Something tells me that's the dig site," says Shepard. "We should get going, then."

Garrus nods. "We should."

The MAKO doesn't move for a few seconds. In those seconds, I feel the invisible tension slowly start to dissipate. I let loose a sharp, dry-sounding laugh, irresistible in my throat. I hear Kaidan laugh too, and then Ashley joins in, albeit a bit more quietly. It only lasts a short while, but in that time span, I feel like we've already accomplished something. I catch Wrex looking at me afterwards, once the MAKO's started driving again, and I blink.

"What?"

He cocks his head ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact. "Your species is…bizarre."

* * *

It takes only a couple of minutes for me to realize that I'd been going about it all wrong. It wasn't the MAKO's launch that made it scary to ride in. It was the way it bounced around on the ground, all hap hazard shocks and violent swerves. My shoulders are already starting to get sore from being smashed up against the seats.

Past the tinny reverberations of the MAKO's suspension and the low rev of the engine, I start to pick up something else…something like a jet plane off in the distance, growing louder with every second. And then, suddenly, it's right on top of us.

"Holy mother of fuck," swears Shepard in the front seat, and I see Kaidan cringe.

Garrus leans forward, trying to get a better angle to see out the window at the massive geth destroyer. It had roared as it passed over us, streaking towards the underground complex. "Well, at least we know we're on the right track."

"Right track my ass," Ashley says, turning around to face us. We hit yet another bump and she smacks her head on the roof of the MAKO, giving her reason to grimace. "That thing could've blown us halfway to hell and back. Instead, it just flies right over us and pretends we don't exist? Give me a break."

"If it was any lower, it'd have to pull up pretty sharp to avoid hitting those mountaintops," I say with a gesture. "And besides, maybe they decided that it wasn't worth using the resources…maybe they don't think we'll make it much farther in the first place."

Kaidan grips his seat much more tightly. "And maybe we already have company to deal with. Incoming geth pulse blast at one o'cl-"

"_Fuck!_" The MAKO's jets propel us upwards as Shepard shouts, and I hear the disconcerting sizzle of a blast impact behind us. We come back down rather jerkily and start bouncing from side to side, swerving eccentrically to avoid being hit by the geth weaponry.

The dull vibrations of our own cannon shake the vehicle, now, and I hear the thud of impact on something in the distance. Shepard is rattling off a string of creative curse words as Ashley operates the main turret and machine guns, all while the rest of us sit in the back and glance at one another.

"I don't like this," Wrex says. "It'd be nice to have some control over whether or not Shepard gets us all killed."

"Handling it! Smegma-breathed loose legged bitch of a father's chode inflamed fuck nuggets…" Shepard's really delving into the Traverse of profanity now, alternatively shouting and whispering obscenities that would make a vorcha take pause. And what's more is that he's doing it without taking more than a breath or two every twenty words, making for a near-constant stream of sacrilege strewn catch phrases.

"Easy, Commander," says Kaidan uncomfortably. The jets throw us into the air again, just as the cannon discharges, and I can actually see the geth armature take the brunt of the blast. We're in somewhat close quarters now – enough to make me even more nervous of the approaching danger. "Just take a few deep breaths…"

"…carpet munching cunt weasel flamingo needle pricked lily livered quad devouring shit-for-brains Rachni of the Verse," he finishes with a gasp, jerking the wheel to the left to avoid another ball of pulsing blue energy. "My apologies, Lieutenant, but as you might have noticed, this is pretty much the perfect time to let off steam."

The cannon fires once more and the last geth armature is thrown violently to the ground. Ashley gives a brief triumphant whoop, but we almost immediately lurch forwards once more, rolling bouncily. The tires crunch over machinery as we traverse the landscape, and I slowly become aware of just how intense the heat is.

"So, this asari scientist…she studies the Protheans, right? If there were Protheans here, that would mean that they actually _chose _to live on this world."

Shepard glances back at me for a second, right as we hit another bump, and refocuses right away. "Can't say I understand it, but yeah. That's a fair assumption. I mean, it's inhospitable, it's isolated, and for all we know, that's the way they'd like it."

"Turrets at right about eleven o'clock," says Ash, taking the gun controls once more. I see a rocket soar just overhead and hit a nearby rock formation, causing the cooled lava to crack and split, finally breaking off into several large sections of debris.

"Might be best to find some other way around." Garrus points out the window off at the right, and I see what he's talking about – another canyon-like section splits off, almost indiscernible from a distance. "There. We can sneak around on foot, take them off guard."

Shepard swerves into the niche and the vehicle stops with startling immediacy. I hear seatbelts disengage.

"Okay, shit gets more complicated from here on out." Shepard glances back at the rest of his crew, all serious eyes and tight-lipped severity. "Alenko and Williams – you'll be staying in the MAKO. Williams will be on the turret, Alenko on driving duty. Wrex and I are Ground Team One for now, and we'll be taking the brunt of fire, if all goes according to plan. Vakarian and Benson, you'll be doing a bit of climbing as Ground Team Two. I need both of you sniping on the rocks, keeping the big guys off our back while we take care of the little ones. If it all works out, they won't even know you're there, and we'll be able to keep the fire off you. Alenko, make sure to keep behind us at all times so we can draw the majority of enemy shots, and when I signal you on the com for the all-clear, you'll need to come pick us up."

He doesn't bother to ask for affirmation. "Move out."

We empty out of the MAKO and start to take up positions. Garrus and I can climb the canyon walls fairly easily; they're actually a lot less steep than they first appear, complete with nooks and crannies to latch onto. The two of us climb up, wordless with focus.

"Geth turret just around the corner," I say softly, reaching a good vantage point a few seconds after Garrus. I'd like to think I'm a fairly fast climber, but I've got nothing on most of my squad mates…I feel outmatched and outgunned, but at the same time privileged. This is an insane opportunity. Back to reality, now. "Recommend vehicle support after you draw their fire. Corporal Benson out."

"_Acknowledged."_

Gunshots sputter from the two small figures below, likely Wrex and Shepard, and I see the turret swivel towards them. Great timing for the MAKO, which rolls in and blasts it with the heavy cannon, causing smoke and flames to spurt up angrily. I notice a lone geth inching up around the edge of the rocks and dial in my scope. Easy now…I breathe out, slowing my heartbeat, aiming just a shade to the right to account for the light gust blowing about all this hot air…

I hear a soft whistle, almost like a paintball round, and his flashlight head suddenly lights up with sparks. The round took him in the head, beautifully, almost artfully, and he falls out from behind his cover. I blink as I try to adjust, and my own shot strikes the wall just behind the body, sending up a faint cloud of dust.

"Hmm. That's a damn shame." I look at Garrus, who noiselessly moves forward a few more feet, a ghost on the rocks. His mandibles click and I feel like he's grinning, even though his mouth is still set in a line. "You'll get him next time."

"I _definitely_ had that one," I whisper loudly. "_Definitely _had it. You did that on purpose."

"And boy, was it pretty or what?" The turian chuckles softly as we both move forward, shadowing Shepard and Wrex as they approach the base. "I'm sure it was an accident…maybe I just got lucky, right?"

I could swear he winked at me.

The base is crawling with the synthetics, some roaming, some more carefully hidden, set up behind crates and other barriers. I lay the barrel of my rifle on an outcropping and take aim once more, this time at one of the geth snipers. Dial in the scope a tad more, then back, aim just a fraction of an inch more to the right. Breathe out. Finger on the trigger…

The geth is flung backward from the impact of Garrus's shot and he clucks almost disapprovingly. "Three out of five, maybe? Just a sec…" He pivots the rifle and squeezes the trigger twice more, and I see a big white geth reel back from two shots in the chest. His rifle overheats and he breathes in, deep and proud. "Four out of seven should do it."

For a moment, I forget that I'm supposed to be providing cover fire. My jaw drops and I glance back at him for a moment. "But…how did you…?"

I'm so out of my league right now. When we get back to the Normandy, I'll have to ask Garrus for tips. I mean, in my unit, I'd been the premier sniper, an example for my fellow soldiers to follow…and yet Garrus is showing me up with ease. A deftness borne of constant practice. All of his shots are perfect. I can't compete with that.

"Wasn't easy," says Garrus, squeezing off a shot right as his rifle cools down. Another geth drops. "I might give you a few pointers sometime."

I look back through my scope. There are only a few more geth out in the open, and a couple are rushing into buildings, taking cover from the rapidly advancing pair of Shepard and Wrex. They're deadly efficient. Wrex dodges around crates and kills one geth, blasting him twice in the chest with a shotgun, ripping through machinery and wiring as easy as one would rip a paper bag. He flings his arm out to his left and another geth is thrown brutally by his biotics, smashing into a wall and crumpling. Meanwhile, Shepard has the right flank. He's calling out inaudible insults, and I only pick up a few words from my perch, none of them friendly. Jericho Shepard hamstrings one geth with a few rifle shots and comes out from his hiding spot, blasting the grounded robot with almost callous finality.

I refocus. That's why I'm not as good as these guys…they're all so focused on the task, accurate and adrenaline-inspired, while I'm too busy being in awe of their prowess. I see a final geth sprinting towards cover and aim quick, tracking his movements carefully. Account for his motion, breathe out, squeeze the trigger…

Both of our shots hit him at the same time, one in the side and one in the head. I think mine was the headshot since I'd been aiming at about that level, but I can't be sure – I mean, this is Garrus we're talking about.

He must've been thinking about the same thing, because he sighs. "Oh, alright. That one can be yours."

I give him a grin, wordless but grateful, and stare down the scope again. That's when I notice that something isn't right…everything seems much hazier, blurry. The landscape is blending in with the geth, and the geth with the landscape in turn…there's a ringing in my ears…everything feels like…like I'm hearing it while underwater…

Suddenly, I can't concentrate on standing up anymore. My knees buckle and I feel the sniper rifle drop from my hands, and I start to fall, as if in slow motion. The sound of gunshots quiets to a barely audible tapping noise, and I manage to wrench my body sideways, looking for someone…anyone. There's a blurry bluish shape streaking towards me, but I can't tell what it is, let alone if it is friend or foe. My momentum sends my head spinning around, staring now at the rocky cliff as it rushes up towards me. I am weightless. I can't feel my feet, let alone any other part of my body. I am weightless…weightless…

And then, white.

* * *

I feel a cold grip on my neck and hear the low thrum of machinery.

"_Time of death, four thirty three AM."_

There's a sob, something strangled and wet, and it seems to echo. I hear a man trying to console the crying woman, likely his wife. They both sound familiar, but I can't seem to place their voices, not without faces.

"_It was all for the best."_

I hear wheels rolling on linoleum, smell something sterile in the air. I still can't see anything, but I feel something shift underneath me, and the voices start to fade into the distance, into memory and dream.

Is this a dream?

I resolve that it must be. The sound of wheels on the floor continues for about some time, and my contemplation is interrupted only by the occasional jostle. The darkness is absolute, but after a few more minutes, I can suddenly see…the lights are too dim here. I hear something, maybe a zipper, and hear someone snap at someone else…it's taking everything in my power just to focus, to try and make out words.

"…_you idiot, it's standard protocol. And please, shut the kid's eyes first."_

"_What?"_

" _The guy at the morgue is asking for bodies with closed eyes specifically now, says that the ones with their eyes open freak him out…and his job is shit enough as it is. Just get it zipped up and into processing already."_

I see a pair of fingers; sense pressure on my eyelids. I can feel it all, but I can't interact…I'm frozen in this body. As though in stasis. Am I really here? Or is this some sort of demented nightmare…just wake up, Drake.

I hear the zipper and feel claustrophobia start to set in. I'm not breathing, but the air feels too musky and oppressive all the same – there's another great point, why the hell am I not breathing? The sound of voices fades to whispers and I don't bother concentrating. I feel like I'm hyperventilating, but how can that be true when I'm incapable of breathing? I'm helpless, alone, trapped; just me and my thoughts on the table in a…in a body bag.

In a body bag.

And then, suddenly, I'm spiraling down through the darkness itself, screaming noiselessly, incapable of slowing – the abyss rushes up to meet me, a vast nothingness, ready to swallow me up like the mouth of the universe.

* * *

"Christ, my ears…get him to shut up, Vakarian."

I feel a fleshy hand on my mouth and suck in a sharp breath. Reality reasserts itself. I see Garrus looking down at me, an unusual expression etched onto his face. Could it be worry? I let out the breath and my heart starts to beat more slowly, trying to adjust to the strangeness of this whole situation. I'm somewhere familiar, a seatbelt strapping me in. The MAKO. I'm on the MAKO with Shepard, and we're on Therum. That has to be it.

Disoriented memory starts to flood back, blurry and uncertain. I had been with Garrus on the cliff, helping him to snipe the geth – or at least, trying to help him. He'd been doing a sight better than I had, from what I remember. Not that I can remember too much. My left arm is stinging, and I suddenly realize that I have a couple shallow gashes running down from elbow to wrist. They're freshly bleeding. Not serious injuries, but definitely painful.

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the seat. "What happened?"

"You blacked out," Garrus says, appearing perturbed by my lack of cognizance. "You and I were supposed to provide cover fire for Shepard, and everything had been going really well…at least, it _had_ been. I glanced over at you, and you were swaying back and forth like you were dizzy, and then, you dropped your sniper rifle, and it looked like you were about to take a dive…needless to say; I caught you before you could fall down the cliff. Scraped your arm up a bit against the rocks, but it's nothing major." The turian's eyes narrow ever so slightly, and I feel like he can see right through the lie I'll inevitably tell. "You could've died."

Ashley is turned around in the passenger seat, a look of plain concern on her face. "What the hell happened, Drake? You passed out at random and woke up screaming, and I'll be perfectly honest with you –"

"It's compromising the mission," interrupts Shepard. He swears loudly as we approach a rather narrow choke point, and the rattle of bullets on steel rings outside the vehicle. The MAKO swerves closer to the cliff wall as the Commander tries to guide us out of the geths' line of sight. "I'd tell you to stay in the car, but you'd probably blow it up somehow. Are you fit for duty, Corporal?"

For the first time since I've been here, I'm unsure. If that…if that _dream _is anything to go by, then I'm dead. If I'm dead, then everything I do here has an added degree of realism, as if the pain and people weren't enough.

You see, before I lapsed into unconsciousness and almost fell off of a cliff to my death, I'd been operating under the assumption that even if I died, I had a chance to return home and be with family again. Hell, I'd been expecting that. But now, everything I do will have legitimate consequence, and if…if I…no. If I wasn't willing to sacrifice my life legitimately to this cause, then I didn't deserve to be here. This is all bigger than one person. Bigger than me.

"Corporal?" The Commander's voice is quieter but more dangerous, as if he suspects me of something. I smile.

"Fuck yeah, Commander. I'm ready."


	7. Chapter 6: Blood Laughs

_CHAPTER NOTES: Found a fic-sitter, at least for now, so this is much less cluttered now. Huzzah!_

_As a side note, I thought about making the end of this chapter result in Garrus and Wrex being crushed/killed by debris, but I didn't have the heart to pull such a cruel April Fools joke. I hope you can bear with my lack of sadism all the same._

* * *

Chapter 6: Blood Laughs

Bullets ricochet off of rocks and earth with hollow pings. The noise is akin to something much smaller, much less significant…like dropping a coin into sand, and at times, more like chucking that coin at a brick wall. The noise is never truly loud. Never enough to remind me of how dangerous the fire is I'm playing with. Maybe that's for the best. If I could comprehend the danger more thoroughly, I'd never be able to work up the courage this took. Laying your life out on the line…

…the shot is lined up perfectly, level at the distant geth flashlight head. For a moment, it ducks back behind cover, assault rifle held upright and at the ready. I wait. Patience is a virtue, as the cliché goes. I dial the scope in a shade more and make sure not to twitch, accounting for whatever small amount of wind is present. After a second, I breathe out, knowing that it's only a matter of time, and the geth lunges from its cover, spraying the area wildly.

The glass in its head splinters as the bullet makes contact. Spider web cracks spread from the impact as the mechanical body is thrown backward, and I swerve the barrel away, already scanning the battleground for a new target.

"Clear," calls Shepard, yanking me out of my intense reverie, and I spring out from my cover. By now, it's almost muscle memory. We clear an area, we advance, we repeat. Garrus and I are lingering about twenty yards back, careful not to draw the attention of enemy snipers. We crouch as we advance, staying close to the cliff wall. No unnecessarily verbose banter. This is about as close as we get to being in 'the thick of things.' As far as the enemy is concerned, we don't exist.

We advance up the incline quickly, keeping our weapons trained, but we get to the top of the hill without incident. A metal path leads up to an electric door, no doubt the entrance to Liara's dig site – this should be fun.

"Seems a little too easy," says Kaidan softly. Garrus and I catch up with the rest of the group, and I laugh halfheartedly at the Lieutenant's comment.

"We've gone through at least a hundred geth to get here. If that's easy, I'd hate to see hard."

Kaidan opens his mouth to retort, but closes it almost right away, shrugging. "But…it's different, somehow. I mean, I figured that we'd have at least a little difficulty getting to the dig site. But it didn't feel like they were going after her. It felt like they'd already got to her, and they'd set up camp to guard this area." He sighs. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"Makes more sense than a lot of the shit I say," says Shepard, pacing the area warily. "You know what? Scratch that. They were definitely here already. Just look at the way the towers were set up. They knew we were coming. Or, at least, they knew that they had to protect whatever it is that's in there."

"Could just be Dr. T'Soni," Garrus says, shrugging. "Saren's an evil son of a bitch, but he's not stupid. You said that he was after her, so it would make sense for him to try and keep others away from her at the same time…but does that mean he wants her alive?"

Shepard nods. "Either that, or they haven't been able to find her, so they've locked down the area. Hmm…that might complicate things a little." He leans on a rock casually, closing his eyes, no doubt trying to make sense of the situation. "Right. Right. That should work. Okay, so we're going to leave a token guard at the entrance, and the rest of us should go in to find the doctor…or the professor…the point is, the rest of us will go in to find Liara T'Soni. Benson and Vakarian, you're going to be stationed just inside the door. Try to keep out of sight, and shoot anything that comes out or in that isn't blue. Or, you know, us. We'll contact you via comlink when T'Soni is secure."

A memory flutters through my mind, of a tunnel collapsing, of earth shifting and machinery twisting into a crumpled mess…shit. They have no idea. But how can I tell them about it without causing a butterfly effect? I mean, I've already done enough to change things for the worse, and there's no chance in hell that they'll believe me. And even if I manage to convince them, they're likely to be upset at me for not having said it sooner…no, I have to keep quiet. I have the advantage of foresight all the same. I can still help in more subtle ways.

"Back on Eden Prime, you said we should all stick together," I say, taking a step towards Shepard. If I can convince him that Garrus and I should go with them, I might be able to warn everyone of the possibility that the mining laser would cause instability, and that would give us the necessary motivation to move quickly…I could save them. My mind returns to Therum and I meet Shepard's eyes. "Maybe we should adhere to that rule now, too. It's not like anyone's going to be sneaking up on us."

The Commander's mouth is a hard line. "You don't know that, Benson. For all we know, we'll get ambushed from behind two minutes after we go in. That's why the two of you are going to guard the entrance."

I lick my lips, thoughts racing. "But I think that –"

"On Eden Prime, I told you something else, Corporal. I told you that you don't think. You listen to whatever the fuck I tell you to do, and you do it. Now would be a great time to adhere to _that_ rule." He meets my eyes and gives me a cold stare, making me blink. "I don't need this insubordinate bullshit, not in addition to all my other problems." Shepard breaks off the gaze and nods at the rest of the squad.

"Move out."

* * *

"You've got a knack for getting under Shepard's skin."

I'd been playing chess on my omnitool and losing spectacularly. I watch for a moment as my bishop gets his ass beat down by the queen, and then I look up at Garrus. "What?"

The turian chuckles darkly, his sniper rifle propped up against a wall. He surveys me casually, eyes narrowed, evaluating. "Don't play coy with me, Drake. You heard me just fine. You and the Commander get into these petty little spats on a pretty regular basis. Any back story to that? Or does he just flat out not like you?"

"I wish it were that simple," I say, quitting the game with a sigh. _Damn computers._ "I mean, he was fine around me when he was drunk. Maybe I just need to get him trashed more often. Everything in life would be simpler if alcohol fixed it…"

"You're avoiding the question," Garrus replies, leaning forward slightly. "Come on, now. There's got to be a reason. People don't just go around being nasty to each other."

I look at the floor for a minute, thinking. I'd never actually put much thought into why Shepard treated me the way he did, outside of the fact that I'd argued his orders a couple times…and honestly, that in itself was enough ground for him to stand on. But there was something else to it. Something more than a little lack of subservience – I mean, the Commander wasn't exactly a role model himself. If he applied standard military procedure to his actions, he'd be dishonorably discharged inside of an hour.

"Before I joined Shepard's crew, there was another Corporal under his command." I lean back against the wall. It's a bit strange, all things considered – the corridor has curved walls, and we're both set up behind crates that we brought in from the next room. The way everything is arranged makes leaning against the wall feel disorienting. "Corporal Jenkins," I continue, snapped back to reality. "He died on Eden Prime. He was…really young. I don't know if he feels like I'm trying to take his place or something, but…honestly, I feel like the Commander just doesn't like it when people question his orders."

"It could be both," suggests Garrus. "To be honest, when I was in C-Sec, I found myself questioning orders a lot, too…and it wound up getting me erased from the system. I thought it'd be easier now that I'm travelling with Shepard, and in a lot of ways, it is. But I still find myself wondering why the hell we do what we do sometimes. Letting Shepard drive the MAKO, for example. I know that it turned out fine, but I was always a little anxious, wondering when we'd careen headlong into a pool of molten lava."

"We've still got to make the drive back," I say with a smile, deliberately trying to mislead him. It feels bad in the pit of my stomach, knowing that our escape will be significantly more treacherous. But I can't give myself away. "I'm sure Shepard can find some way to kill us all before the day's over."

"As nice as that sounds, I'd rather he didn't." Garrus stands up and stretches his arms out, groaning quietly. "I know it's for our own protection, but this armor is a pain in the ass to sit in. Hmm. _Literally_ a pain in the ass." He eases back down and rolls his eyes, legs spread on the grimy floor. "I crack myself up."

I grin. "What does a clock do when it's hungry?"

He gives me a look of utter confusion. "I…I don't know. How does a clock get hungry in the first place?" When I don't answer, he closes his eyes. "Alright, I'll bite. I don't know Drake, what _does_a clock do when it's hungry?"

"It goes back four seconds," I say, slapping my knee stupidly.

Garrus sighs, putting his forehead in his palm, but I see his mouth twitch. "Great. You know when a man's bored because he resorts to reciting puns." He makes a weird face, pointing at me with one of his three fingers. "You know what the chain of command is? It's the chain I go beat you with till you understand who's in ruttin' command here."

I laugh out loud. "I knew it! You watch _Firefly_."

He blinks, surprised. "Wow, I really didn't expect you to get that reference. You don't see too many humans that keep up with turian shows."

Now it's my turn to be surprised. "Wait. What are you talking about?"

Garrus eyes me strangely. "_Firefly_, obviously. Just like you said. It was my favorite extranet web series growing up. After Season 4, it started going downhill, but it was still worth watching." He gets more animated, and his mandibles start to twitch as he relives his childhood. "It managed to blend all sorts of Palaven dialects, and it probably had my favorite cast for any indie series. Special effects weren't much to look at, but they had a pretty tight budget, and it wasn't about the effects, anyway…it was the dialogue, the wit, the clever bits of self-mockery and philosophical introspection."

He takes a deep breath and pauses, squinting at me. "How did you recognize the line but not know that _Firefly_ was a turian extranet series? I mean, all the actors were turian. It'd be like me not knowing that _Gray Matter_ was a human show."

"_Firefly_ was a human show back in the 21st century," I say, a sort of giddy joy rising in my chest. "It blended science fiction, western ideology, and even some Chinese culture…it was beyond good. It was the _best_. Did you say that the turian version had four seasons?"

"Six, actually. And now that I think about it, that last season was actually really good…and they definitely said something about human influences. It might've been an adaptation." Garrus snorts. "Weird thing to connect over, though. And you said it aired in the 21st century? Funny thing. Most shows that old have been lost in the constant stream of data."

"The good ones never die," I say quickly. "Well, except that it did…it only lasted for fourteen episodes and a movie. But damn…it was a great show. You need to show me the turian versions sometime."

"It's a date," he says wryly. "Speaking of which…I've always had a thing for asari. I'm a little disappointed Shepard didn't let us go with him. Then again, he was probably afraid he'd have no chance with her if I was present."

"Shit. If that's the reason we couldn't go with him, we'll be spending a lot of time together. Shepard's one greedy bastard."

"Surprised you'd be upset at all." Garrus meshes his fingers together to make a steeple, and he rests his chin on it, masking a smile. His beady eyes glint for a moment. "Always thought you were more interested in the Gunnery Chief, to be honest. Not that I've known you for very long, but…I have my hunches."

I feel my face get hot, but I laugh it off, rolling my eyes. "Ash? Nigga, please. She's way too much of a hardass for me. Can't see any way that'd work out."

Garrus doesn't blink, and his barely visible grin widens. "Don't bother trying to you're your feelings from me, Drake. I'm good at telling when someone's interested…in me, or in someone else. To be honest, I wasn't really worried about the Commander making a move on Dr. T'Soni…no, he has his eye on another member of the crew."

I _do_ blink. "Who? Is it Ash?"

He laughs out loud but quickly covers his mouth, realizing again that we're on guard duty. When the hand comes away, he's barely smiling, but his eyes still sparkle with mischief and cleverness. "Not even close. Though I imagine Ash is going to be upset when she finds out."

None of this is making sense. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to put all the pieces together. "So…what you're _trying_ to say…is that Ash likes the Commander?"

He shakes his head. "What's the human expression? Close, but no cigar? Doesn't make any sense, if you ask me…either way, no. But you're getting warmer."

I bite the inside of my cheek, pensive. A thought crosses my mind and my eyes widen. "No way."

Garrus says nothing.

"Kaidan?"

He doesn't have to smile. His eyes are doing that for him. "Give the man a prize."

Now it's my turn to laugh. "So, let me get this straight…Shepard likes Kaidan…Ashley likes Kaidan…hypothetically, I might happen to like Ashley." Garrus snorts. "Okay, so between the two of us, I _do_like Ash. Who the hell does Kaidan like?" I look back his way, eyes narrowed. "And how do you know that Ash likes him in the first place?"

"To both questions? I'm just good at reading people. It's that simple." Garrus pauses, as if he wants to say something.

"Spit it out."

He leans back against the wall, bringing his arms up behind his head for cushion. "Well, I might have accidentally walked in on Shepard and Kaidan somewhere, say…down in engineering. And they might have been making out, though I might have startled them when I walked in. And Shepard might have threatened to kick my ass if I told anyone." Garrus dons an innocent expression. "But you didn't hear it from me."

I don't say anything for a full ten seconds. My mouth is hanging open as I try to process it all, but I close it, realizing that there's no point in trying. "Alright, let me guess…Wrex and Tali have an unusual little interspecies thing going, and Chakwas does Pressley while Joker runs tape? Where the fuck is your mind, man?"

He chuckles some more, quiet and amused. "Sorry, but you're pretty far off there. From what I can tell, Chakwas is single and glad of it. Pressley probably has a family. Wrex wouldn't get with anyone outside of his species. Joker's more likely to want babies with the _Normandy_ than he is with any sentient species." He pauses. "But Tali is definitely interested in _someone_ on the crew. The mask makes it hard to tell who, exactly…but I think I could make a decent guess." He leaves it at that, crossing his arms. I meet his stare for a moment, and the corners of his mouth twitch right as he averts his eyes.

I smirk. "Ah, I see how it is. Tali likes you, and you're just going to deny it, right?"

Garrus shakes his head, shrugging. "If she did, I wouldn't deny it. I revel in that type of thing. I mean, if it was a serious relationship, then…eh…" He's suddenly more awkward, and his eyes dart to the side. "Well, um. That's harder to say. I mean, I'm not really the interspecies _type_, so to speak, unless we're talking asari…well…what I'm trying to say is that…" He sighs. "Look, she doesn't like me. I think I know who she likes, but I don't want to spread shit around, not any more than I already have. All this gossip is making my head hurt. What I'm trying to say is that I'm comfortable sharing who I like, and who likes me, if need be…if that makes sense? It doesn't. Let's drop it."

* * *

We've been 'guarding' the door for a good half hour by now, and I still haven't received any word from Shepard. It's not particularly worrisome – I mean, Shepard can obviously take care of himself – but it's definitely leaving me in a state of boredom. Garrus and I are playing a fairly simple RTS on our omnitools now, something that reminds me vaguely of _Total Annihilation_, but with a wider variety of units and larger maps. Technology's come a long way.

Suddenly, my omnitool's interface is filled with static. I frown and look up at Garrus.

"It's happening to mine too," he says, tapping the translucent orange hologram. "That's borderline injustice, Drake. I know your General was somewhere underwater, but my submariners were taking too damn long to –"

Halfway through his sentence, the door slides open, almost imperceptibly, and I hear a thump; see a flash of blue light. There's no time to think. "Down!" I shout, ducking and yanking him by the arm.

The armature pulse soars over us, sizzling against the ceiling maybe ten feet away. The heat is intense, even with my body armor regulating temperatures, and I feel the kinetic impact on my shields, an explosion of light, sound, and sheer energy.

"Fall back!" I say, snatching up my rifle and stumbling backward, about as graceful as a swan…if the swan had only one leg. If we can make it to the open area behind us, the armature won't be able to hit us, no matter how well it aimed…the geth were another matter entirely, but that wasn't the biggest issue at hand. I feel a couple bullets ping off of my shields and sweep a muscle-memorized pattern across my omnitool. The virus loads, but I keep running. When I reach the end of the corridor, I duck down by the wall.

Garrus comes in on the other side of the corridor, readying his assault rifle. I take a deep breath, letting my shields recharge, then peek out. Geth are pouring in, at least a half dozen by now. Several take aim, and I thrust out my hand, discharging the minor EMP from the omnitool.

See, the electromagnetic pulse itself isn't the dangerous part…it's the virus wired into the electric signals that can be deadly. Sure enough, a couple of the geth twitch, and several drop to the ground, shields detonating with an impressive amount of force.

Garrus sprays the area with calculated bursts, and the geth without shields drop. The rest continue to advance, laying down suppressive fire. He turns to me as his shields are drained, sounding – dare I say it? – impressed. "Nice one. What did you do?"

My wrist is burning from the omnitool, but I ignore it, peeking around the corner. I fire several pistol rounds at the biggest geth in sight, draining his shields and punching through his armor before he can do more than fire a couple of retaliatory shots back. I grin at Garrus and duck back into cover. He picks up the slack, firing off several more bursts of assault rifle rounds. "Modified version of the military standard overload that techies use. Shorts out basic processors, which in the case of geth, means their locomotion. For organics in suits, it can be even worse…cuts off oxygen, messes with com traffic, that sort of thing."

Garrus pulls back and I take his spot, scanning for geth. A sharp noise, something like that of a laser, zips right by where his head used to be, and I train my pistol, squeezing off several shots at the peculiar synthetic. It dodges several shots with ease, but eventually I drill it. I still miss a few times, but the majority of shots hit the mark, and it stops moving right as my pistol overheats.

"Doubt that's all of them, but they've at least stopped for the time being."

"There has to be a drawback," says Garrus, and I realize he's still talking about my overload program.

"It's not what I'd strictly call 'safe,'" I say, proud that I'd managed to impress him in some way. "Makes my wrist hurt like a bitch because of all the heat, and you can get serious burns if you aren't careful. Saw one guy in Basic blow off his arm because he didn't know what he was doing. But I know my shit."

"So you're pretty _and_ smart? Thought I was all alone in the Verse."

"Cats like usexist to break stereotypes and forge bromance," I say, smirking. I pull up the comlink to Shepard, nodding to Garrus. "Guess that means we're the spice of life. Cover me if any more geth come; this'll only take a minute."

"Minutes we don't have? Sounds like fun."

I tap my ear. "Shepard? You there?"

"_Great timing, Drake. You and Garrus need to make your way outside and get in touch with Joker. My connection doesn't seem to work that well through the walls…if anything, you being so close is the only reason we're able to talk right now."_

"About that…" I hear more shots in the corridor and whip out my pistol for a second, blind-firing into the narrow corridor until it overheats. "Commander, there's a geth armature at the entrance. We're taking care of the foot soldiers, but I don't see either of us making it outside alive. That thing's cannon would fry us."

"_Fuck. Well, then, try to get in touch with Joker, then make your way down here where we are. Clear out as many of the geth as you can. But I need you here soon."_ Shepard pauses. _"Pretty please. With a cherry on top. We're about to have some fun."_

I try to ask what he's talking about, but he disconnects before I can get the first word out. I set up a new link to the _Normandy_. "Joker, do you read? This is Drake Benson, we need extraction on point in ten minutes." I peek out again, this time taking aim, hoping to take out a couple geth before Joker responds, but my body is too exposed. My shields deplete with startling speed and I yank back, but not before feeling a sharp pain in my forearm.

Garrus glances over anxiously, but he goes right back to firing, keeping up a steady stream on the advancing geth. Probably a wise decision. "You alright, Drake?"

"I'm fine, it's just a graze." I don't know if that's true, but it can't be too deep, seeing as I'm wearing a full suit of armor. The biggest issue would be exposure, but we're in a controlled environment right now. The rupture is minor. The pain could be a lot worse, so I forego using Medigel for the time being. Right now, the area just feels numb.

"_Sorry, I was busy…um…doing something a pilot would do. What's up?"_

I sigh. "Drake here. We're going to need you to bring the _Normandy _to our location. Just home in on my signal and find a good vantage point."

_"Will do, sir."_ He cuts out for a second, but only just. _"Wait. Where's the commander?"_

"Busy," I say, and more gunshots rattle the ground near my position. Joker takes the hint.

"_Well, shit Drake, why didn't you just say so? ETA seven minutes."_

I close the channel, peeking through the area the geth had been filtering through. None in sight for now. I nudge Garrus and get up, heading down the ramp with whatever speed I can muster. "Come on, man, Shepard needs our asses down there two minutes ago."

"Could've just brought us with him," he grumbles, but he stashes the sniper rifle away and follows me without question. I remember how the second elevator broke down in the game and tear open a package of Medigel in preparation, smearing it on my wounded arm. The bullet can wait. I need to be serviceable now. But then again, there are a lot of changes from the game so far…maybe the elevator will be perfectly operational.

* * *

Turns out that good news was just too much to hope for. The second elevator is broken, just as expected, and it appears that the only way down is over the railing…and shimmying down the metal supporting structures. And it's a pretty long way down.

"It's never easy," I mutter, stretching my arms as I prepare for the inevitable. "As if getting shot wasn't enough, now I have to play monkey just to get out of this shit alive…someone upstairs has a real lousy sense of humor."

"We could just lie down and die," suggests Garrus. "Granted, that's what we're trying to avoid, but if doing things the hard way annoys you so badly, there's no harm in trying."

"Drake? Garrus?" Shepard's calling us from down below, and I get the impression he's smiling. "Right, I forgot to mention…the elevator circuits happened to short out when we took it the first time. I think you're going to have to climb down." He pauses. "Look on the bright side, though. It's only fifty feet or so. And physical exertion builds character."

I lift myself over the railing and start to ease my way down, trying to ignore the sweat on my palms inside the gloves. It's not that I'm afraid of heights. It's just that I'm afraid of _falling_ from heights. "If it's all the same to you, I'm comfortable with what character I have. Dropping fifty feet to my death won't build much of anything." I wince a bit every time I exert my wounded arm, but luckily, the Medigel has already started to work. The bullet lodged in my armor is the biggest irritant. Every time I move the arm, I feel it dig into my skin, like an ugly little leech.

"In case you haven't noticed, turians aren't exactly built for climbing." Garrus follows after me, and I hear the quiet creak of metal struggling to support bodies. Thankfully, the Prothean ruins have lasted for tens of thousands of years…I doubt our encroachment is more than an annoyance. I continue down, careful to keep my footing steady.

"Hello?" The voice is familiar and welcome. Clearly, Liara hasn't yet been freed from her unintentional prison. Then I realize why Shepard needed us – he's about to blow through using the mining laser. And he wants us to watch. "What is going on? I thought you had discovered a way to get me out of here! Is anyone listening?"

"Pipe down," says Shepard, and I catch a glimpse of an arm…his arm? "Could you two hurry it up, please? The doctor's getting impatient, and I'm getting a migraine."

"I'm sure you're itching to get back to saving the universe, but there are more important things at stake." I hear a scuffle above me, and Garrus swallows. "Like…survival."

Occasionally, I'll chance a look at the ground, just to see how much farther I have to go. I feel a sense of utmost satisfaction when I see less than five feet of open air between me safety, and I shove off of the metal supports. I don't land in a particularly pretty way. But I land.

"You're almost there, Garrus." I push up from my knee, watching on as he continues his overly cautious descent. The turian is determined to avoid looking down, and when he finally does reach solid footing, he looks like he can't quite believe it.

"Well," he says. "That wasn't so bad."

"Come on over," calls Shepard, waving an arm. "It'd be a damn shame if you were vaporized now, especially after making all that effort to climb down."

"Mind telling us exactly what the hell is going on?" I ask, making sure to play the part of clueless innocent. I run down the ramp, glancing back at Garrus. "You coming?"

"Sure," he says, turning away from the struggling asari. "I was just…enjoying the view."

Shepard laughs. "You don't mean to tell me you're into that bondage crap, right? Never a fan myself. Makes me feel like I'm doing all the work." If turians could blush, Garrus would be a bright shade of red. The Commander doesn't seem to notice. He slaps the mining laser controls, giving Kaidan a momentary heart attack. "Gentlemen, you'll be worshipping me by the time this is done. In an epiphany of genius proportions –"

"With potentially lethal consequences," interrupts Kaidan.

"That's what makes it fun, you ass. Like I was saying. In an epiphany of genius proportions, I came up with the idea to use this mining laser to blast through the rock wall, leaving us perfectly capable of rescuing Dr. T'Soni from her self-inflicted dipshittery. Then we'll be heroes, there'll be festivities, cake, etcetera."

"Of course, that ignores the fact that these ruins are unstable, and doing this could possibly bring a million tons of rock down on top of us." Kaidan shakes his head. "But then again, when were we ever the type to use silly things like 'reason' and 'common sense' to make our choices? Like Shepard says, this is what makes it…fun."

"Drastic measures to achieve fantastic ends? Sounds like my type of lost cause." Garrus smiles. "Can't save a galaxy without breaking a few skulls. I say we do it."

"Doesn't matter what we think or say," says Wrex, and I see the flicker of a smile on his rugged features. "Shepard does whatever he damn well pleases."

"And right now, I damn well please." Shepard dons an absolutely horrid pirate accent, firing a few rounds from his assault rifle in the air. "Guts, gold, and glory await us! Maybe a few wenches if we're lucky!" He keys in the initiation sequence, and I hear it start to warm up. "Fire the starboard guns!"

Even from ten feet away, the heat is intense. A concentrated red beam tears through the section underneath where Liara is trapped, and condensed dust is thrown into the air, billowing outward and swirling around us. Surprisingly enough, it hardly makes any noise. The explosion itself was –

"Well, that was disappointing," says Ashley. Shepard's pouting, staring at the mining laser control device like it had wronged him, and I get the impression he wants to kick it.

"We're alive," suggests Kaidan, and then he seems to realize it. "Oh, God. We're alive!"

"Shepard, if you're that disappointed, we can blow something up later." Wrex looks pensive. "Maybe there'll be some geth after we free the doctor. Killing geth always seems to cheer you up. We could even do a fly-by in the _Normandy_."

"Oh, Wrex." Shepard smiles. "You always know the right things to say."

* * *

"Oh, thank the Goddess." Liara is still suspended in the air, but she tries to look back at us, an expression of gratitude on her face. "I did not think anyone would manage to free me, but clearly, I was wrong. Please, get me out of here before more geth arrive. That console over there should have a failsafe for this containment field."

"Not so fast, Shepard." Wrex steps forward. "Her mother is working for Saren. For all we know, the geth were here to free her. Maybe she's just stupid, and that's how she got trapped. Either way, I wouldn't be so trusting of Benezia's only daughter."

"What? No! I would never work for Saren, not if he is doing what you say he is!" She twitches a few times, but the effort is futile. "I am my mother's daughter by blood, not by choice. I should not be held responsible for her actions, and I certainly would never follow in her footsteps." She pauses, staring straight ahead once more. "I…I truly don't know why Benezia joined Saren. I don't want anything to do with that turian bastard!"

"Hold on a second," says Garrus. "We're not all cold-blooded hedonists. Some of us are intelligent, kind, handsome…even dashing, if the occasion calls for it."

"I…I believe you! Just please, let me down! I will help you in any way I can, I promise."

"It'd be a real shame if that mining laser was completely fucking pointless," Shepard says grumpily, walking over to the console. "We didn't even get a proper explosion…talk about anticlimactic. I say we let her out, if only so the mission doesn't feel like a total waste. Then we'll bring her back to the _Normandy_. Make her squirm a bit."

"Better than being left here to die," Liara says, looking up at the ceiling. "Goddess, give me the strength to persevere through any pains inflicted upon me, and allow me the –"

She cries out as the field dissipates, falling to the ground with all the grace of an ostrich trying to fly. As she gets to her feet, Shepard walks up behind her quietly, assault rifle at the ready. The asari jumps again as she turns around, then laughs quietly, a nervous titter.

"Why, Commander," Liara says, looking at the ground. "You're so…tall."

"And you're so 'barking up the wrong tree.' You've yet to meet the rest of our ground team, so I might as well introduce them." Shepard turns to me and Garrus, inviting us to step forward. We do, and I feel a smile creeping across my face. "Garrus and Drake, meet Liara. Liara, meet Garrus and Drake. Garrus is a former C-Sec detective with a penchant for asari scientists. In addition, he's the worst backseat driver in the world. Drake is an Alliance Corporal, but he likes to pretend he's an Admiral. He enjoys long walks in the rain and blacking out in creatively precarious sniper positions."

I grin, offering a mock salute. "Watch out Commander, your cynicism is showing."

"Ignore him," says Garrus, shaking Liara's hand. "I'm an excellent backseat driver."

"And they told me to stop psychoanalyzing in Basic. Now, let's get moving. The elevator isn't working, and I don't feel like climbing fifty feet…I swear to God, one snarky comment from either of you, and I'll shoot. I swear. Like I was saying, the elevator isn't working, and we need another way out. Don't suppose you have any ideas?"

"There's another elevator, near the center of the tower." She walks past us. "At least, I believe it's an elevator. It leads out to a platform, and from there we should be able –"

A dull rumble resounds off in the distance, followed by smaller rumbles. I feel the earth shake underfoot, if only slightly, and I realize that we're behind schedule. If the scene in the game was a narrow escape, then it's very plausible that we have even _less_ time.

Ashley shifts from toe to toe. "Is it just me, or did that sound really bad?"

Even Wrex looks anxious. "It didn't sound _not_ bad."

"These ruins are unstable," Liara explains, and fear flickers across her smooth features. A louder rumble throws me off balance, and I nearly trip. "We need to hurry."

"Your insight is admirable," Shepard says back. "Still, you heard the doctor. _Move!_"

* * *

The elevator ride is agonizing. The walls reverberate with tension, and I feel like it's only a matter of time before even the elevator stops working. Luckily, it manages to carry us all the way to the top…and then, the krogan is there, along with several geth minions. The ruins continue to rumble on the verge of collapse, all while the massive alien continues to walk towards us, a cocksure stride paired with a menacing smile. As soon as the elevator stops moving, Shepard is walking towards the krogan as well, and we follow close behind, albeit much warier.

"Exhilarating, isn't it?" says the krogan, his smile widening. "Surrender. Or don't. I –"

"You had me at 'don't.'" Shepard is less than ten feet away when he starts to fire, and he's through the krogan's shields before the much larger alien can even bring the shotgun to bear. Ugly splatters of orange splash from dozens of abrasions as Shepard continues to advance, bullets flying, and soon he's less than a foot away. The krogan is already falling, but he raises a claw to tear at his foe, an act of desperation rather than one of necessity. In response, Commander Shepard shoves the front of the rifle at the krogan's face with violent strength, and I hear a crack as the blow knocks his surprised and injured enemy to the ground. Shepard's boot holds the krogan down while he pours another dozen shots into the alien's face, leaving nothing recognizable below.

Less than a second after Shepard starts firing, I whip out my pistol, squeezing off several shots at a geth as I retreat to cover. I hurriedly press several transparent buttons on the omnitool, bringing up another overload EMP as everyone else scatters. My heart is racing from the suddenness of Shepard's actions – really? Who walks up to a krogan and _does_ that? – when I set off the unstable virus, causing a couple of the geth to freeze in place.

"Ignore the rest, fall back!" It's Shepard, firing as he retreats the opposite way of the elevator. I understand exactly why he's in such a rush, too – bits of rock are starting to fall, and it's only a matter of time before the whole place comes down on us. I sprint out from cover, firing a few wildly inaccurate shots at the geth. In all reality, I don't give a shit whether any of the bullets connect. We running on borrowed time. This whole place is coming down, and fast.

Wrex is leading the charge while I bring up the rear. I'm actually a good twenty feet behind everyone else, but thankfully, I'm gaining fast. A heavier section of debris hits me on the shoulder, making me stumble, but I don't slow down – I can't. It'll kill me. A frenzied thought passes through my mind; of that same rock hitting my head and knocking me unconscious…the others probably wouldn't even notice. I'm the farthest back. And I'm sure as hell not looking over my shoulder anytime soon.

I shove the gruesome thought away as I close the distance between me and Liara to a couple of feet. She trips on a chunk of fallen rubble and I race by her easily, arms swinging to carry my momentum…no. Not like this. The guilt alone would kill me. I slip slightly as I turn around, and when I get to her, I grab her arm and heave with all the strength in my body. She's standing, and as far as I'm concerned, that's good enough. I resume sprinting, thighs pumping angrily while my lungs do their best to siphon whatever oxygen is left in the dig site through. My chest feels like it's about to cave in.

Several smaller sections of rock hit me as I continue to dart after the rest of the crew. Taking the time to help Liara put me a good ways back. I see the bright light of the outside world and feel a surge of manic, unbridled energy. So close. More debris is falling, and I occasionally feel a spike of pain, on my back, shins, elbows…it doesn't matter. I'm too close to the end for being hurt to be of any consequence.

It takes a few seconds for me to realize I've reached safety, and by then, I'm already a few dozen meters from the exit. The throbbing and cramps catch up to me, and I collapse on my back, breathing heavily as I stare up at vast and empty sky.

In the midst of everything else, it's easy to take life for granted.

* * *

"He gave me two options, and I didn't feel like surrendering. What was I supposed to do?" We're all gathered in the briefing room, supposedly to discuss the mission, but so far, no one's been able to get past the fact that we all almost died. I don't blame them. Shepard's in the middle of a light-hearted debate with the rest of us over his rather surprising disposal of the krogan earlier in the day. And he seems to be enjoying it.

"I see nothing wrong with what Shepard did," says Wrex, stretching his neck. "Probably the only thing that kept us alive. It takes a quad to face any krogan in close quarters."

"Thank you, Wrex." He turns to Kaidan. "Eat that, bitch. I've got a quad."

"That'll make for a lovely epitaph," Kaidan says, rolling his eyes. "Here lies Commander Jericho Shepard, riddled with holes. He sacrificed his life unnecessarily, but I'll be damned if that didn't take…krogan testicles." He shrugs. "It sounded wittier in my head."

"While I appreciate your enthusiasm for the discussion of krogan anatomy, I believe you brought me here for a purpose, Commander." Liara looks confused now. "At least, I thought you did. I honestly am not sure what to believe. The last few hours have been rather…hectic. Did you not say something about stopping my mother, Benezia?"

"Wait," says Tali. "You appreciate the discussion of krogan anatomy?"

Shepard smirks, but otherwise ignores Liara's embarrassed apology. "Actually, the mission we're on is just a shade bigger than that. You see, we actually believe that Saren's head is fucked to the point where he can't tell up from down. At the moment, he's attempting to resurrect the race of synthetics that wiped out the Protheans fifty thousand years ago. And to do that, he's teamed up with the geth." He blinks. "Wow. That actually sounds crazy. No wonder the Council doesn't believe me."

"It is surprising that you are all so casual after a near-death experience. Lewd humor is one thing, but making a mockery of the Protheans' extinction is another entirely." She broods on it for a moment. "It must be a human thing. I am not used to dealing with your species, let alone anyone outside of the asari."

"Actually, I was being serious." The mood of the room instantly darkens as Shepard starts to explain. "The Protheans were wiped out by a race of sentient machines called the Reapers, and we believe your knowledge of the Protheans is the reason Saren wanted you. We figure you might have some knowledge of the Conduit, and what it would be used for…and hell, for someone as deluded as Saren, that's more than worth killing for."

"What? But…there has been no evidence in my research pointing to these 'Reapers.' Why exactly have you adopted this theory?" Liara looks almost upset. "I have dedicated my life to understanding the Protheans. Surely you have some evidence to suggest something so bizarre has any grain of truth to it."

"When we were on Eden Prime, Shepard ran across an ancient artifact," Ashley says. "Some type of Prothean beacon. As far as we know, that's all we have as proof…that, and a data recording the quarian recovered from a damaged geth."

Tali glares at the Gunnery Chief. "You _do_ realize that I have a name?"

"The beacon burned a vision into my brain," Shepard says, ignoring the harmless spat. "I'm still trying to figure out what it all means, but I've got a pretty good idea. From what I can tell, it's the Protheans being obliterated by a race of synthetics – like I said; this just so happens to be the Reapers. It feels incomplete, though. It's all jumbled and shit. Can't make much sense of it beyond assumptions and random extrapolation."

"Yes…yes, that would make sense," says Liara, excited. "The Protheans used technology like the beacons to transmit data directly into the mind of the user. Finding one in working condition is extremely rare. No doubt that is why the geth attacked Eden Prime. The chance to acquire a functional beacon is worth nearly any risk, especially if what you say of the beacon is true. But simply acquiring the beacon wouldn't have been good enough…the technology is only supposed to be capable of interacting with Prothean physiology. That would explain the lack of clarity in your visions. All the same, a lesser mind would have been utterly destroyed by the violent vividness of the images, in conjunction with being incapable of comprehending what was really going on. You must be remarkably strong willed."

He shrugs. "I have my moments. But…there has to be something else you knew, for Saren to be so determined in coming after you. Is there anything else that you can tell us? Anything that might be significant? Everything helps at this point."

"There _is_ one thing in particular," Liara says, and her face darkens. "As I continued to research the Protheans, I unearthed something quite alarming. No one seemed to give credibility to my findings, but I have enough proof that I barely regard it as mere theory anymore. Over years of painstaking investigation, I discovered a pattern in the extinction of races…a pattern that seems to repeat itself every fifty thousand years. Time and time again, civilization reaches its peak, but shortly after, they are ruthlessly struck down, and almost all evidence of their existence is erased. The Citadel, the Mass Relays – all regarded as the Protheans' greatest achievements – are based on the technology of those who came before them. It is a cycle of extinction."

"A little less sanguine than I'd hoped for, but news is news." Distant memories cross my mind, of Sovereign, and of the various events during the games. I'm starting to forget. It's been so long since I've even touched them, and so much has changed. I lean on my fist, staring at the asari scientist. "So, looks like the stakes just got a lot higher."

"Can't say I like the idea of being overmatched," Garrus says, arms crossed. "But then again, life wouldn't be interesting without a challenge every now and then."

"I hate to agree with a turian, but he's right." Wrex smiles. "The fear of brutal and inescapable death always seems to bring out the best in people."

"Doesn't mean I have to like the constant threat of it hanging over me," Shepard mutters. "That's all for now. Liara, you should go down to the med-bay. Let Dr. Chakwas see if you're in decent condition. The rest of you are dismissed."

* * *

I'm looking for a quiet space. My room is by the crew mess, so it's not like I'll be getting any time to myself there. I head down the elevator to engineering, watching as the walls slide by, inch by excruciatingly slow inch. When the door rolls down I know exactly where I'm headed. It's somewhere no one else will think to look. A quiet space.

I open the driver side door to the MAKO. To my surprise, someone else is on the passenger side, the seat leaned back till he's almost horizontal, gazing up at the pastel ceiling. He glances my way as the door opens, giving a curt little nod before returning to his vapid examination of the MAKO's interior. "Benson."

"Wrex," I say, taking his lack of hostility for an invitation. I lean back the seat as I get in, lying down in much the same way as my krogan teammate. I stretch my arms up, putting both hands behind my head as I splay my elbows out. I'm not really thinking about much. It's just peaceful, lying here in the vehicle that until very recently had terrified me, nothing to do but stare at the ceiling and wonder…

I think of what Garrus said. About Ashley, and Kaidan, and the almost cruelly interwoven network of crushes. Apparently, Shepard and Kaidan had more than that, but it didn't make anything less peculiar. If anything, it muddled things even more. I hadn't really considered my feelings for Ashley before. Not in depth, anyways. She was cute, she was funny, but she was my commanding officer. That was where things ended.

Even now, I really don't see those feeling developing into anything else. But then again…the galaxy is in turmoil. Entire star systems at stake. If now isn't the time for rash action, there might never _be_ a time. And then, there was still Virmire to consider.

"You don't talk much," Wrex says, breaking the five minute silence. "I like that."

_Well then, you won't like this much_. "Wrex, if you had someone on your mind and you couldn't seem to focus on anything or anyone else, what would you do?"

"Kill em," he says promptly, never breaking eye contact with the ceiling overhead. "Seems to solve the problem most of the time. Everyone's quieter when they're dead."

My mouth hangs open for a moment as I lay there, but I quickly manage to shake it off. "Well, no, I didn't mean it like that. I meant, like…if you have a girl on your mind, what would you do?"

Back on Earth, back in my own time, I never really had to consider things like this. Serious relationships were few and far between, with the void filled with inconsequentially empty flings…party hookups, casual run-ins as friends-with-benefits. Even the longer relationships I'd had seemed simple. But Ashley was a whole other issue. I'd never considered military protocol getting in the way of things. And besides, she didn't even like me. It had always been fairly easy for me to spark up romance, casual or otherwise, once I'd known how a girl felt about me…but Ashley was different. Scary, in a way.

Wrex groans slowly, a deep, heavy rumble. "Benson, you're really not asking the right person. And to think…you were one of the only members of Shepard's crew that didn't annoy me." Silence hangs over us once more, and I don't bother trying to break it.

"You could try and focus on someone else's issue," he suggests gruffly, several minutes after the silence had started back up again. "If it's a good enough problem, you might wind up forgetting about whoever you're thinking of, even if it's just temporary."

"Thanks, Wrex."

"Don't mention it," he replies, sounding almost irritated. "Seriously." I stay in the MAKO with him for another half hour or so, drifting over the line between sleeping and waking. The beige surfaces are trying to lull me to bed, but even when I close my eyes, I feel intrusive thoughts bombarding me. There's a Reaper invasion in the making, and yet, I'm thinking about trying out a relationship…ah, the absurdity of human nature. Or maybe, just the absurdity of organic nature. Plenty of other people are being driven by feelings to consider romantic involvement. I smile. I know who I'm talking to next.

* * *

"So, a little bird tells me that you've got a crush on one of the _Normandy _crew."

Tali starts at the sound of my voice, but she immediately makes an attempt to relax once she realizes what I said. The engine room is almost completely empty, but for the two of us. She turns back to the Tantalus drive core, leaning on the railing lazily. It's all that separates us from the intensely hot mass effect drive…thankfully; the _Normandy_'s stealth system design helps relieve the heat without frying us all in a matter of days. That's just the way technology works…there's a fine line between great benefits and utter destruction. I return my focus to Tali, just as she throws me a would-be casual glance.

"Oh, Drake, I didn't notice that you…have I ever told you about life on the Flotilla?" She twirls her fingers anxiously. "I'm sure you would find that more interesting than talking about…wow. Anyways, how is your arm? I heard you got…shot."

"Chakwas dug the bullet out; the Medigel did most of the work though." I touch the spot on my arm thoughtfully, and it responds with a light throb. "Still a little sore but – hey now, don't try to change the subject."

"Dr. Chakwas is surprisingly well informed on Quarian biology," she continues, voice a little shaky. "Speaking of which –"

"Look, Tali, you can tell me." I smile at her nervousness, and she fidgets a little more. "Is it Garrus? The guy's a heat seeking turian sex machine. I can put in a good word if you want, I'm sure the two of you would get along just fine. Or is it Engineer Adams? I mean, the guy's a little older, but that's your business, not mine. Some girls like older guys. Different strokes for different folks. Nothing wrong with that."

Tali is frozen in place, finger on a console, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head as she tries to phrase sentences. "I, what? No, I wouldn't know, after all I never really thought…no, I like people my own age. Not to say that I like one at the present time, or that…I don't know if this is a good subject to discuss." She straightens up and starts to back away toward the door, tentatively skittish. "We were talking earlier. About biology. Quarian biology. Or like in the briefing room. Krogan testicles."

I blink. "Krogan testicles?"

I could swear that her glowing eyes grow wider under the mask. She silently backs through the automatic door, never taking her eyes off of me, and it electronically shuts soon after. After a few seconds, I hear her shout "Keelah!" in an almost angry way, and then I hear the elevator humming as it carries her upstairs. Adams walks through the door soon after, giving me the strangest look.

"Seems you frightened off my new favorite engineer." He grins. "What did you say to scare her off? Didn't make a joke about ohms, did you?"

"Shit man, I'm the wrong person to ask." I lean on the railing, trying to map out the encounter. "We were just talking about who she liked on the ship, and she was getting all nervous about it, and then…wham, 'krogan testicles.' Talk about a bombshell, huh? She just gives me this look, like I'm frightening her, and then she scampers off."

He leans in closer. "You don't think she's interested in Wrex, do you? I mean, that's not exactly a matchup I want to consider. He just seems so much…heavier."

I give him a lengthy stare. "Dude. What the actual fuck are you talking about?"

* * *

Garrus is watching on with a merry glint in his eye as I give my rendition of the chat with Tali. When I get to the part about "krogan testicles," he starts to grit his teeth, near tears springing to his eyes.

"And then, speak of the devil – Engineer Adams walks up, and I tell him about that end bit. When I'm done, he sticks an image of Tali and Wrex getting freaky in my head, and leaves me with a comment about how Wrex is so much 'heavier.' Seriously, man, if weight was my biggest concern in that relationship, I'd have serious issues." I feel my stomach turn over at the thought. "God, I just referred to it as 'that relationship.' I already _do_ have serious issues."

"That imaginary sequence will haunt my nightmares," says Garrus sardonically, sitting on the edge of his bed. "And really? 'Krogan testicles?' If that horribly awkward excuse for conversation didn't give you any hints, I don't know what will."

My jaw drops. "Are you saying that it really _is_ Wrex?"

He laughs out loud. "Oh, Drake…you poor misled son of a bitch. The answer's right in front of you, if you just take the time to look for it."

I shrug. "So…are you saying that it's actually you?"

"_Commander Shepard here. We've set an immediate course for Noveria, and we should be arriving in the next couple of days. Try not to get yourself killed until then. Shepard out."_

"Noveria," Garrus mutters, stretching out and yawning. "Sounds like a heap of fun and a half."

"Who is it?" I persist, opening the door to head up to my own room. He simply shakes his head, waving me off, eyes gleaming all the while.

"You'll figure it out some day, I'm sure. Now leave me in peace. I need to get some rest, and so do you."

Noveria crosses my mind, and I remember segments of the game…segments, but nothing definitive. I reluctantly leave the room, thinking all the while. Shepard has some big decisions ahead. And to be honest, I'm not sure how he'll go about making them…let alone how _I_ would. Until then, it'd best that I get some sleep. Tomorrow's problems need not clutter up today.


End file.
